AN  AUTO 
BIOGRAPHY 

EDWAR.D     PEPLE 


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OF  CALIFORNIA 

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"  She  Came  Right  Up  to  Me  and  Placed 

One  Little  Hand  on  my 

Radiator  Cap  " 


An 

Auto-  Biography 

A  Tale  of  Truth— And  Ruth 

BY 

EDWARD  PEPLE 

AUTHOR  OF  "a  night  OUT," 

"the  littlest  keuel,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 
MOFFAT,  YARD  &  COMPANY 

1915 


Copytight,  1915,  by 
MOFFAT,  YARD  &  COMPANY 


iDZ.'b 


AN 
AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


665860 


AN  AUTO .  BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  I 

>AM  AN  AUTO!  When 
I  make  that  state- 
ment, I  do  so  with  a  full 
knowledge  gleaned 
from  the  bumps  of  per- 
sonal experience;  therefore  I 
speak  with  some  authority. 

I  was  bom  in  Detroit.  This 
fact  alone  may  not  inspire  you 
with  any  marked  degree  of  jeal- 
ousy, yet  portions  of  this  history 
may,  at  least,  prove  interesting. 
My  earliest  and  faintest  recol- 
lection is  that  of  a  great  noisy, 
smoky  machine  shop,  littered 
with  iron  monsters  of  torture; 
some  hot,  some  cold,  but  each 
designed  for  the  making  of  an 

1 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

auto's  parts.  I  did  not  know 
this  at  the  time.  I  was  con- 
scious only  of  continuous,  rack- 
ing pain.  Certain  portions  of  me 
were  being  hammered  and  twist- 
ed and  filed  and  drilled  and 
welded  into  proper  shape;  then, 
after  a  while,  these  portions  were 
taken  to  another  torture  cham- 
ber, known  technically  as  the 
"assembling  shop,"  and  a  second 
dull,  blurred  agony  began. 

I  was  put  together.  One  part 
would  be  bolted  or  riveted  to 
another  part,  and  fitted  with 
such  horrible  tightness  that  I 
tried  to  scream;  yet,  presently, 
the  pain  subsided,  and  I  felt, 
sub -consciously,  that  the  greasy, 
profane  creatures,  who  were  beat- 
2 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

ing  and  maltreating  me,  did  so 
with  a  definite  object.  There- 
after my  sense  of  curiosity  was 
aroused. 

I  could  not  see  as  yet,  and 
could  hear  but  faintly;  still,  I 
knew  I  was  something  —  but 
WHAT?  I  had  wheels  and  con- 
necting rods  and  valves  and 
cylinders  and  a  mass  of  other 
mysterious  contrivances ;  but  no 
life,  no  brains,  no  heart!  Then 
a  fellow  came  along  and  greased 
me. 

He  filled  two  orifices,  which 
I  afterwards  learned  were  my 
transmission  and  differential.  He 
poured  oil  into  my  crank  case, 
then  poked  a  sharp  pointed  can 
into  each  and  every  one  of  my 

3 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

ticklish  joints.  It  felt  nasty  at 
first,  but  I  soon  began  to  like  it, 
for  the  tight  feeling  all  over  me 
gradually  subsided. 

Then  the  same  fellow  poured 
a  vast  quantity  of  cool,  smelly 
liquid  into  the  middle  of  my 
stomach.  It  must  have  been 
some  sort  of  "dope,"  for  the 
moment  it  was  in  me,  I  experi- 
enced my  first  sensation  of  actual 
life.  It  was  like  blood  in  a  hu- 
man's veins!  Like  wine  that  is 
waiting  for  the  cork  to  pop !  And 
that  is  just  what  happened.  It 
popped ! 

I  was  taken  to  a  kind  of  table, 

and  bolted  down ;  then  a  human 

got  on  my  back  and  began  to 

manipulate  my  levers  with  his 

4 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

hands  and  feet — and  then  it 
happened ! 

Something  inside  of  me 
groaned  and  turned,  slowly  at 
first,  then  faster  and  faster, 
while  funny  little  jumpy  sparks 
ran  up  and  down  my  astonished 
person.  They  tickled  a  little  and 
hurt  a  good  deal,  and  I  was  just 
on  the  point  of  protest,  when — 
crash! 

I  "must  have  yelled  bloody 
murder,  but  at  the  time  I  was 
too  confused  for  intelligent  recol- 
lection. At  any  rate,  I  blew  up — 
exploded — and  I  kept  ofi  blow- 
ing up  at  regular  intervals.  One, 
two,  three,  four!  One,  two, 
three,  four!  It  was  horrible! 
Terrifying!    Like  life  and  death 

5 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

all  tangled  up  together!  My 
pipes  were  hot  and  scorched  with 
living  fire!  I  trembled  and 
roared  in  agony !  My  wheels  and 
shafts  were  running,  jammed 
close  together  in  a  tight-locked, 
grinding  maze,  rough  edge 
against  rough  edge,  each  turn  a 
rasping,  tearing  wound.  And 
then  the  oil  began  to  flow ! 

It  bubbled  up  from  somewhere 
with  a  pleasing,  pumping  sound, 
and,  take  it  from  me,  old  dear,  it 
did  the  business.  It  leaped  at  my 
cogs  and  softened  their  edges 
down.  It  eased  my  hot  spots  and 
trickled  soothingly  into  every 
pain-racked  joint  I  owned.  It 
splashed  and  splashed,  like  a 
fountain  of  youth — and  love! 

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AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Gee,  but  I  loved  that  oil!  It 
made  me  feel  cool,  and  sweet, 
and  happy!  Right  then  and 
there  I  made  a  vow  that  if  ever 
the  humans  deprived  me  of  my 
rightful  share  of  oil,  I  was  going 
to  register  a  good,  stiff  kick. 

And  now  I  was  working, 
steadily,  and  my  fears  began  to 
fade.  The  explosions  still  went 
on  inside  of  me,  but  I  didn't 
mind  them  any  more.  They  were 
part  of  the  game — my  pulse 
beats! — and  they  lent  me  the 
courage  of  life  and  power.  Yes, 
that  was  what  I  was — a  thing 
of  life!  And  Power!  Just  what, 
I  neither  knew  nor  cared ;  and  so 
I  began  to  sing.  No,  it  wasn't  a 
song  exactly,  but  rather  a  low, 

7 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

melodious  hum,  the  purring  of 
some  huge,  contented  cat.  Then 
I  sat  on  that  testing  table  and 
worked  for  ten  sweet  hours. 

I  wanted  to  work !  I  wanted  to 
get  my  feet  on  the  ground,  and 
run!  That's  what  I  wanted — 
to  run!  Then  it  came  to  me — all 
of  a  sudden. 

By  Jupiter!  I  was  an  auto- 
mobile ! 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


CHAPTER  II 

?Y  next  recollection  is 
that  of  being  un- 
bolted from  the  test- 
ing table  and  rolled 
into  the  carpenter 
and  paint  shop.  I  learned  this 
later,  for,  as  I  was  still  without 
sight,  I  could  only  vaguely  con- 
jecture as  to  the  various  things 
which  were  continually  being 
done  to  me.  However,  the  one 
fixed  fact  that  I  was  an  auto 
helped  my  impatience  for  the 
romance  and  adventure  which 
would  one  day  be  my  happy  lot. 
My  body  was  created.  I  felt 
it;  and,  with  pardonable  pride, 
I  felt  that  it  was  being  done 

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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


well.  Then  they  painted  me.  I 
could  hear  the  brushes,  slap, 
slap,  as  they  went  over  and  over 
me,  giving  me  several  thick,  sub- 
stantial coats. 

It  was  the  same  feeling  of 
serene  happiness  (so  I  have 
heard)  that  comes  to  a  woman 
when  she  acquires  a  particularly 
stylish  and  perfectly  fitting 
gown. 

(N.  B.  I  wonder  if  my  simile 
will  be  entirely  clear  to  the  la- 
dies? Yes?  Thank  you.  But 
let's  get  back  to  the  biography.) 

I  was  given  various  and  sun- 
dry highly  polished  nickel  fit- 
tings. Then — glory  be! — I  was 
provided  with  five  separate  and 
distinct  eyes. 

10 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


The  two  big  ones  in  front  were 
called  head  lights.  The  two 
smaller  ones  were  known  as  side 
lamps,  and  the  little  red  and 
green  fellow  at  the  rear  I  after- 
wards found  to  be  an  invaluable 
asset  when  dogs  and  trucks  and 
motor-cycles  and  other  infernal 
nuisances  jumped  at  me  sud- 
denly from  behind. 

The  head  lights,  however, 
were  my  joy  and  pride.  These 
were  the  first  two  eyes  I  received, 
and  with  them  I  caught  myself 
reflected  in  the  polished  body  of 
another  car  across  the  aisle.  I 
was  painted  a  sweet,  dark  blue; 
a  glossy,  perfect  coat.  My  trou- 
sers— I  mean  my  trimmings — • 
were  of  a  slightly  lighter  shade, 


11 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

and  from  shoes  to  hood  I  seemed 
to  reflect  each  ray  of  golden 
light  that  fell  from  the  high 
glass  roof. 

There  were  other  cars  about 
me,  fifty  perhaps;  but  these  were 
merely  cars.  Personally  I  was 
the  car!     IT! 

Now,  possibly,  you  may  at- 
tribute this  to  vanity;  yet  in 
that  first  delightful  moment  of 
self  -  appreciative  eyesight,  it 
struck  me  that  I  was  just  about 
the  niftiest  little  boat  that  ever 
ran  on  rubber! 

It  was  rather  a  disappoint- 
ment, though,  ultimately  to 
learn  that  every  auto  experiences 
a  like  sensation,  and  that  even 
owners    ofttimes    entertain    the 

12 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

same  delusion;  only,  the  owners 
retain  it  longer  and  believe  in 
themselves  more  violently. 

At  any  rate,  I  was  supremely 
satisfied.  I  was  now  complete, 
and  ready  for  all  the  future  might 
unfold.  Still,  it  was  a  trifle  hard 
to  just  sit  there  and  wait  for  it. 

While  waiting,  an  incident  oc- 
curred which,  while  slight  itself 
at  the  time,  still  proved  to  be  of 
the  utmost  value.  I  was  spoken 
to — by  a  strange  car — without 
the  formality  of  an  introduction. 

He  was  standing  next  to  me, 
a  much  battered  up  old  scoun- 
drel, indescribably  dirty,  with 
one  eye  and  a  missing  mud 
guard. 

"Say,   young  feller,"   he  re- 

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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

marked,  without  any  preamble 
whatever,  "you's  feelin'  right 
smart  swelled  up.  Now  ain't 
yer!" 

I  glanced  at  him  out  of  the 
comer  of  my  side  lamp,  but, 
naturally,  made  no  reply.  The 
vulgar  roadster  disregarded  my 
obvious  slight  and  went  straight 
on: 

"That's  right.  Git  huffy! 
Turn  up  yer  little  tin  nose !  Al- 
ways the  way  with  you  dum 
aristocrats.  Yer  don't  know 
nuthin' !  an'  yer  thinks  yer  knows 
it  all!" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
then  added,  sullenly: 

"Jus'  wanted  to  give  yer  a 
tip  fer  to  put  yer  wise;  but  if 

14 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

yer  don't  want  it,  don't  lake  it! 
Go  on — in  yer  own  way — an' 
butt  yer  brains  out  on  the  first 
telegraft  pole  you  come  to.  It 
ain't  none  of  my  hearse-party! 
Go  to  it — aw'  spill  yerself  all  over 
the  mapr* 

Of  course  this  was  rank  im- 
pertinence, mixed,  possibly,  with 
a  little  natural  jealousy  of  my 
smart  appearance;  and  yet,  un- 
derlying it  all,  there  seemed  to 
be  a  germ  of  reason  in  the  old 
skate's  observations.  Therefore, 
being  a  wise  and  intelligent  little 
car,  I  thought  it  the  part  of  wis- 
dom to  overlook  his  insulting 
familiarity  and  listen,  at  least, 
to  what  he  had  to  say. 

"Well?"  I  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

polite  reserve,  "what  is  the 
tip  to  which  you  have  a  ref- 
erence?" 

"Oh,  nuthin'  much,"  returned 
the  big  red  vulgarian.  "I  ain't 
a-goin'  to  waste  much  time  on 
you .  B  ut  there '  s  j  us '  two  things . 
First,  when  you  get  out  in  the 
country,  don't  you  begin  admir- 
in'  of  the  scenery.  Keep  yer  eye 
on  the  road!    Get  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  answered  lightly, 
with  an  air  of  one  of  long  ex- 
perience. "I  understand  you  per- 
fectly. What  is  your  other  treas- 
ure-trove of  sapient  advice?" 

Of  course  he  didn't  under- 
stand me.  How  could  he?  But, 
anyway,  he  seemed  to  catch  my 
meaning. 

16 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

"This  here!"  he  growled. 
"An'  don't  you  pull  no  jokes 
about  it.  See  that  dinky  little 
steerin'  wheel  in  the  front  of  yer 
drivin'  seat?  Well,  yer  do  what 
it  tells  yer!  Understand?  Go 
straight  ahead  till  yer  feel  it 
pinch  yer  in  the  ribs.  Then 
turn!  If  it  says  turn  right,  turn 
right!  If  it  says  turn  left,  you 
turn! 

"But,  my  dear,  dear  sir " 

"Now,  never  mind  what  yer 
think  yerself .  You  listen  to  me! 
That  steerin'  wheel  is  the  muck- 
a-muck — the  boss! — an'  yer  got 
to  do  what  it  tells  yer.  I  didn't! 
That's  how  I  come  to  be  in  the 
horse-pittle." 

Again  he  lapsed  into  silence, 
17 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

and  this  was  the  last  word  I  ever 
got  out  of  him.  I  did  try  to 
draw  him  into  conversation  sev- 
eral times,  partly  out  of  pity 
for  his  battered  physical  condi- 
tion ;  but  always  he  would  open 
his  one  eye  drowsily,  then  close 
it  again  without  a  syllable. 

Suddenly  I  understood.  He 
was  looking  down  on  me!  The 
disgusting  beast!  The  rotter! 
Just  because  he  had  had  a  little 
road  experience,  he  was  looking 
down  on  me!  On  me!  the  finest 
specimen  of  perfect  mechanism 
that  ever  owed  its  young  exist- 
ence to  the  glittering  metropolis 
of  Detroit!  Well,  by  Gosh!  If 
it  wasn't  for  spoiling  my  brand 
new  paint,  hanged  if  I  wouldn't 

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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

back  up  and  kick  the  carburetor 
out  of  him! 

Vd  show  him!  Just  wait  till 
I  got  out  on  the  road,  and  I'd 
prove  whether  a  dinky  little 
steering  wheel  was  my  boss  or 
not!  Dog-gone  his  spattered 
hide!  Just  wait  till  I  got  out 
on  the  ROAD! 

Just  here  my  angry  reflections 
were  interrupted  by  a  low,  nasty 
chuckle  of  amusement.  I  looked 
round  sharply  with  all  five  of  my 
eyes,  but  the  shop  was  as  silent 
as  the  tomb.  As  I  said  before, 
there  were  about  fifty  other  cars 
in  the  place,  so  I  failed  to  pick 
out  the  offender;  still,  I  have  al- 
ways entertained  a  sneaking  sus- 
picion that  the  amused  chuckle 

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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

emanated  from  that  disreputable 
one-eyed  pile  of  junk  directly  on 
my  left. 

I  was  hot  all  over,  even  with- 
out my  power;  but  I  cooled 
down  presently  in  the  comfort- 
ing consciousness  of  dignified 
personal  superiority.  The  per- 
son had  not  dared  to  laugh  a 
second  time! 

This  closed  the  incident ;  then 
came  another  and  a  happier  one. 
I  was  taken  out  for  my  trial  run. 


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AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


CHAPTER  III 

I T  happened  in  the  morn- 
ing; the  most  beauti- 
^  ful,  fresh  Spring  morn- 
ing that  ever  visited 
the  earth.  The  sun  was 
peeping  through  the  high  glass 
roof.  Outside  the  birds  were 
singing,  and  a  cool  breeze  flut- 
tered through  the  open  doors. 

The  stage  was  set !  The  great 
big  world  beyond  my  shop  was 
waiting— FOR  ME!— and  you 
can  bet  your  boots,  my  son,  I 
was  ready  for  the  dash! 

My  driver  came  in  and  sat 
on  me.  I  didn't  like  him  at 
first.  He  chewed  tobacco,  and 
used  profanity  conversationally. 

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AN  AUTO- BIOGRAPHY 

However,  I  forgave  him  later,  in 
his  abihty  to  drive. 

He  threw  out  my  clutch, 
pressed  an  electric  button,  and 
my  engine  started  instantly.  It 
did  not  frighten  me  this  time, 
for  I  knew  the  ropes ;  besides,  my 
oil  was  splashing  the  moment  the 
starter  turned  my  engine  over. 
He  pressed  my  accelerator  with 
his  foot,  in  order  to  raise  a  little 
heat.  I  whirred  and  gave  him 
what  he  asked.  Again  he  threw 
out  my  clutch,  and  slap!  the 
shift  lever  slid  me  into  low  gear, 
and  I  was  ready! 

The  clutch  was  let  in  slowly. 
Something  inside  of  me  seemed 
to  grip  my  driving  shaft  as  in  a 
mighty  vise,  and  for  an  instant 

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AN  AUTO-BIOORAPHY 

more  I  stood  and  trembled,  my 
four  eyes  fixed  upon  the  open 
doors ! 

And  now  I  was  moving!  Mov- 
ing! Oh,  the  joy!  And  yet,  the 
disappointment!  My  cogs  were 
making  too  much  noise,  a  growl- 
ing, protesting  noise,  and  I 
didn't  like  it.  Slap!  Click! 
Slap !  The  shift  lever  went  into 
second  speed,  and  I  started  to 
roll — majestically ! 

How  I  ever  got  out  of  that 
door  I  have  never  known  exact- 
ly. I  was  too  excited.  Yes, 
even  to  cast  a  parting  glance  of 
scorn  at  the  old  red  roadster 
with  his  sleepy  eye  and  the  miss- 
ing mud  guard.  But  I  was  out! 
At  last!    In  the  open!    With  a 

23 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

smooth  straight  road  before  me 
— and  I  wanted  to  jump  at  it 
and  run ! 

Still,  I  wasn't  happy.  At 
least,  not  perfectly.  The  pro- 
test of  my  cogs  continued,  and 
my  speed  was  less  by  far  than 
the  light-footed  rush  of  which  I 
had  fondly  dreamed.  Here  was 
a  road!  A  splendid,  unob- 
structed road!  Then  why  the 
devil — Slap!  My  lever  was  in 
high,  and  by  the  handle  of  the 
great  horned  spoon,  I  had  come 
into  my  own! 

I  threw  off  every  human  care 
on  earth  and  began  to  glide! 
Oh,  the  happiness!  The  sweet, 
unutterable  relief!  I  was  rim- 
ning  easily,  swiftly,  with  a  feel- 

24 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

ing  of  reserve  behind  my  power. 
My  driver  cursed  me — horribly 
— yet  in  a  gentle  and  purely  im- 
personal tone  of  voice,  pressed 
downward  on  my  accelerator  with 
his  foot,  and — well,  I  jumped! 

Just  here  let  me  digress  to  re- 
mark that  all  chauffeurs  and  other 
garage  people  allude  to  the  accel- 
erator as  an  "  exhilarator . ' '  This 
is  an  error,  of  course;  yet,  judg- 
ing from  the  pure  delight  that 
the  little  iron  contrivance  sprin- 
kles all  over  you,  I  respectfully 
suggest  one  change  in  the  Eng- 
lish language. 

At  all  events,  I  was  exhilar- 
ated, to  the  smallest  iron  fibre 
of  my  being.  I  took  the  bit  in 
my  radiator,  so  to  speak,  and 

25 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

humped  it.  I  didn't  merely 
skim  that  road.  I  ate  it!  I 
passed  a  milk  wagon  as  though 
it  were  standing  still,  and  ar- 
ranged permanently  for  the  des- 
tiny of  a  hitherto  perfectly  good 
old  rooster.  I  roared  up  a  long, 
stiff  hill  without  even  taking 
notice,  hummed  over  its  crest 
and  started  down  the  grade  at 
a  mileage  rate  that  made  my 
speedometer  want  to  take  off  its 
cap  to  me.  Believe  me,  little 
one,  I  was  some  car!  And  just 
here  I  had  the  scare  of  my  life 
thrown  into  me. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  stood  a 
solid,  huge  stone  wall,  and  I  was 
headed  straight  for  it.  I  saw  it 
with  all  four  eyes,  and  tried  to 

26 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

stop.  I  couldn't  stop.  I  was 
going  hell-f or-leather !  And ,  yes, 
I  confess  it  freely,  I  lost  my 
head.  I  felt  a  sharp  pinching  in 
my  left  ribs,  but  was  far  too 
terrified  to  heed  it.  I  was  going 
to  hit  that  wall!  I  couldn't  help 
it !  There  would  be  one  hideous 
crunching,  splintering  crash.  I 
would  spill  myself  all  over  the 
map! 

Ah !  Then  I  remembered !  In 
a  flash!  The  advice — the  pat- 
ronizing, sullen  advice  of  a  bat- 
tered, one-eyed  roadster:  "That 
steerin'  wheel  is  the  muck-a- 
muck— the  boss! — and  yer  got 
to  do  what  it  tells  yer!"  The 
pinch  in  my  ribs  had  grown 
acute.    I  had  to  decide  between 

27 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

odious  advice  and  that  big  stone 
wall.  I  did'nt  like  the  wall,  so 
I  took  the  odious  advice. 

Gee  whiz !  I  turned  to  the  left 
and  went  around  that  curve  in 
one  of  the  most  truly  magnifi- 
cent sweeps  in  history!  But 
had  I  done  it?  Of  myself?  I 
hadn't! 

"You  dear,  disreputable  old 
one-eyed  pile  of  junk!  If  ever 
I  have  the  opportunity  to  apolo- 
gize, I'll  get  down  on  my  angle- 
irons  and  do  it — like  a  gentle- 
man!" 

After  this  it  was  just  about  all 
right.  I  stopped  looking  at  the 
scenery  and  listening  to  the  twit- 
tering birds.  I  got  down  to  busi- 
ness and  kept  my  eye  on  the  road. 

28 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

And  my!  what  a  driver  that 
profane  young  person  was!  To 
run  for  him  was  not  a  task.  It 
was  a  privilege!  He  tested  my 
power  and  speed,  but  never  at 
too  fast  a  pace  for  the  welfare 
of  my  youthful  bearings.  He 
applied  my  brake  intelligently, 
and  that,  if  you  please,  is  an  art 
which  every  owner  should  ac- 
quire. He  didn't  jam  it  on  and 
make  blisters  on  my  brake  bands ; 
but  applied  it  firmly,  gradually, 
and  I  always  slowed  down  with 
ease  and  thanked  him  for  his 
courtesy. 

I  liked  that  driver.  He  drove 
me  just  as  he  cursed  me,  smooth- 
ly, sweetly,  and  never  at  a  loss 
for  what  to  do — or  say. 

29 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

My  next  adventure  came 
about  in  the  crossing  of  a  bridge. 
It  was  an  iron  bridge,  covered 
with  a  loose  board  flooring.  It 
sounded  like  an  accident,  and 
nearly  scared  the  magneto  out 
of  me.  Always  after  that  the 
thunderous  racket  of  a  bridge 
amused  me  vastly.  I  seemed  so 
joyfully  destructive. 

We  started  back  for  home.  I 
did  this  because  I  felt  a  pinching 
in  my  ribs,  and  turned.  Then  I 
went  into  high  once  more  and 
enjoyed  myself.  We  were  loaf- 
ing along  at  thirty-five  when 
we  overtook  a  farmer's  wagon, 
creeping,  of  course,  and  hogging 
the  middle  of  the  road.  I  was 
wondering  what  would  happen 

30 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

if  I  hit  that  wagon,  but  just  then 
my  driver  cursed  me  pleasantly 
and  blew  my  electric  horn. 
''B-R-R-R-R-R-R—OU—ARr 

It  wasn't  the  farmer  who  died ; 
it  was  I!  I  jumped  six  feet  and 
almost  fell  into  the  ditch,  then 
swallowed  my  heart  and  passed 
a  pair  of  horses  who  were  prac- 
ticing a  tango.  The  farmer  was 
cursing  too,  but  he  didn't  do  it 
pleasantly;  so  I  kicked  up  a 
cloud  of  dust  in  his  face  and 
went  on  my  way  rejoicing. 

My,  but  I'll  never  forget  that 
run!  The  faster  I  went,  the 
warmer  I  became ;  but  the  warm- 
er I  became,  the  faster  whirred 
my  fan  and  cooled  me  down, 
while  the  water  in  my  jacket 

31 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

flowed  and  flowed  and  the  oil 
splashed  up  and  soothed  me. 

I  took  another  curve,  a  sharp 
one,  and  had  no  fear  at  all.  I 
loved  that  steering  wheel!  It 
wasn't  like  an  order  from  a  boss, 
but  rather  a  warning  love-touch 
from  a  friend.  After  this  I 
learned  to  answer  instantly,  just 
as  a  human's  feet  will  throw  out 
a  clutch  and  apply  a  brake  at  the 
first  faint  sniff  of  danger. 

In  going  home  we  swung 
around  to  the  other  side  of  town, 
skimmed  through  the  suburbs, 
then  struck  the  traffic.  Wow! 
Remember  the  first  time  you 
ever  pushed  your  way  through 
strange  and  crowded  streets?  It 
was  like  waking  up  suddenly  to 

32 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

find  the  house  on  fire,  and  escap- 
ing in  your  night  shirt.  But 
that  blasphemous  young  imp  on 
my  back  didn't  seem  to  mind  it 
in  the  least.  He  would  swear 
benignly,  and  push  me  through 
holes  in  the  tangle  of  trucks  and 
wagons  where  there  didn't  seem 
room  for  a  greased  cat. 

There  was  only  one  thing  that 
stopped  him.  I  should  say 
things.  They  stood  at  the  cross- 
ings, blew  whistles  and  raised 
their  hands  majestically;  or 
waved  us  along  with  imperious 
gestures,  as  absolute  as  the  pinch 
of  a  steering  gear.  I  thought 
they  were  guardian  angels.  I 
was  wrOng.  They  were  mostly 
Irish. 

33 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Well,  we  got  back  home  at 
last,  circled  the  factory  yard  and 
rolled  into  the  storage  room.  I 
turned  on  the  floor,  backed 
gracefully  into  a  narrow  aisle, 
and  —  click!  —  my  engine  died 
with  a  happy  sigh. 

I  was  flushed  and  happy  and 
deliriously  excited,  so  I  went  to 
sleep  for  three  days.  When  I 
woke  up  again  the  romance  of 
my  pure  young  life  began. 


34 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  IV 

WAS  put  on  a  freight 
car  and  shipped  to 
New  York.  I  was 
tired  when  I  got  there, 
and  in  rather  a  bad  hu- 
mor, so  the  trip  uptown  wasn't 
very  exciting.  They  cleaned  and 
poHshed  me,  and  put  me  in  the 
window  of  a  hundred  and  eighty 
milHon  dollar  sales  room  on  up- 
per Broadway.  Then  all  the 
people  in  the  world  came  along 
and  admired  me. 

I  thought,  at  first,  that  this 
was  romance ;  but  it  wasn't.  You 
know,  romance  is  an  awfully 
funny  thing.  You  start  out  on 
it  and  begin  to  enjoy  it  hugely, 

35 


AN  AUTO- BIOGRAPHY 

when  suddenly  a  something — 
a  great,  mysterious  something 
that  is  stronger  even  than  a 
steering  wheel — turns  you  off 
into  a  by-road  and  your  engine 
chokes.  Then  again,  when  you 
are  not  thinking  of  romance  at 
all,  or  are  fast  asleep — hang! — 
you  are  right  in  the  middle  of  it. 
That '  s  it !  I  guess  romance  must 
be  a  sort  of  back-fire. 

I  had  a  private  salesman  all 
to  myself,  a  nice,  easy-mannered 
young  chap,  and  I  liked  him. 
He  told  the  truth.  I  knew  he 
was  telling  the  truth,  because 
he  said  some  very  nice  things 
about  me.  He  said  these  things 
to  a  raft  of  curious  people  who 
came  in  to  look  me  over. 

36 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

My,  my,  my!  Never  in  my 
life  have  I  seen  such  cheeky  and 
familiar  humans.  They  would 
drop  in  and  talk  and  talk  and 
talk.  They  walked  around  me 
and  smeared  my  polish  with 
their  vulgar  fingers.  They  would 
lift  up  my  hood  and  poke  into 
the  most  personal  of  my  work- 
ings, and  ask  fool  questions  till 
I  wanted  to  die  of  shame.  They 
criticized  and  appraised  me. 
They  discussed  my  points  with 
a  brazen  insolence  that  would 
lead  you  to  suppose  I  was 
some  soulless  animal  designed 
for  their  pleasure  and  delight 
alone.  It  was  perfectly  disgust- 
ing! 

Then  SHE  came.  I  don't 
37 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


mean  the  she.  I  mean  a  she.  A 
dragon !  A  flabby-necked  hippo- 
potamus !  And  for  three  mortal 
hours  I  lived  in  the  horrid  dread 
that  she  would  buy  me.  She 
weighed  two  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds.  She  was  warm  and  per- 
spirationy,  and  she  smelt  of  san- 
dal-wood. She  heaved  herself 
into  my  tonneau  and  mashed  me 
all  down  on  one  side  till  my 
beautiful  new  springs  ached. 
She  sat  all  over  me,  that  woman 
did.  She  examined  my  cushions 
minutely,  and  killed  a  moth  un- 
der the  carpet  on  my  floor. 
Just  couldn't  keep  her  hands  off. 
That  was  my  moth,  anyway. 

I  hated  that  woman !  I  loathed 
her!    And  I  made  up  my  mind, 

38 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

then  and  there,  that  if  she  did 
buy  me,  I  would  stall  myself  in 
the  middle  of  the  first  railroad 
crossing  and  be  spilled  all  over 
the  map. 

Talk  about  a  romance !  Well, 
if  this  wasn't  the  reverse  of  it, 
then  I  didn't  know  the  difference 
between  my  driving  shaft  and  a 
pneumatic  pump. 

With  the  woman  was  a  male 
human,  a  warty  little  beast,  with 
a  nasal  whine  and  an  air  of  ab- 
ject apology.  I  thought  he  was 
her  slave;  that  she  owned  him 
soul  and  body,  just  as  she  in- 
tended owning  me.  Later  she 
referred  to  him  as  her  husband, 
and  when  she  stopped  pecking 
at  me,  he  began.    I  despised  the 

39 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

little  gink.  At  the  same  time  I 
wanted  to  hug  him.  He  saved 
my  life. 

He  did  this  by  offering  to  pur- 
chase me  for  fifty  dollars  less 
than  my  list  price,  and  my  sales- 
man got  hot  in  his  differential 
and  lost  a  customer. 

When  the  hippo  and  the  wart 
had  gone,  I  tried  to  reach  out 
and  pat  my  salesman's  head 
with  my  right  mud  guard,  but 
remembered  in  time  and  saved 
my  dignity.  Gosh!  I  could 
smell  that  sandal-wood  for  a 
week.    It  got  into  my  cushions. 

Romance!    Hell! 


40 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  V 

;FEW  days  later  Billy 
came  in.  I  call  him 
Billy,  not  in  undue  fa- 
i^  miliarity,but  because  I 
afterwards  knew  him  so 
well,  it  got  to  be  a  sort  of  habit. 
Billy  was  a  fine,  clean  young 
fellow,  with  nice  eyes  and  hair 
that  blew  all  over  his  forehead. 
I  liked  Billy.  I  liked  him  im- 
mensely; but  without  doubt  he 
knew  less  concerning  machinery 
than  any  other  sixteen  idiots  I 
have  ever  bumped  against  on 
the  road  of  life.  Hanged  if  he 
knew  a  spark-plug  from  a  cot- 
ter pin. 

But  what  I  liked  about  him, 

41 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

he  acknowledged  his  inexperience. 
He  had  learned  to  drive  the  car 
of  a  friend,  he  said,  but  had 
never  been  introduced  to  a  choo- 
choo's  works.  My  salesman 
asked  him  what  he  would  do  if 
anything  happened  on  the  road. 
Billy  laughed  and  said  he  would 
just  sit  tight  till  some  angel 
came  along  with  a  monkey 
wrench  and  a  basket  full  of 
sandwiches. 

This  didn't  soimd  particularly 
promising,  so  I  hoped  he  wouldn't 
buy  me;  but  Billy  wasn't  cer- 
tain. He  acknowledged,  with  a 
blush,  that  he  was  to  be  married 
the  following  week,  and  wanted 
me  to  help  him  out  on  his  bridal 
trip. 

42 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Shades  of  the  altar !  I  scented 
a  romance  instantly,  and  began 
to  notice  Billy's  points ;  for  I  tell 
you  an  auto  can't  be  too  par- 
ticular in  the  selection  of  an 
owner.  There  are  just  as  many 
makes  of  owners  as  there  are  of 
cars;  but  I'm  sorry  to  say  they 
don't  run  quite  as  uniformly  as 
we  do.  Many  of  them  are  merely 
piles  of  junk. 

Billy  admired  me  for  a  while, 
but  said  he  couldn't  decide  defi- 
nitely until  the  lady  looked  me 
over.  I  didn't  think  much  of 
this,  either;  yet,  having  little  to 
say  in  the  matter,  I  could  only 
sit  in  that  sales  room  and  grow 
hot  and  cold  with  alternate 
hopes  and  fears.     I  wajited  to 

43 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

go  on  a  honeymoon, — who 
wouldn't  ? — yet  I  wasn't  so  keen 
about  having  that  particular 
brand  of  bridegroom  at  my  steer- 
ing wheel.  It  didn't  spell  Safety 
First. 

An  hour  or  so  later,  just  as  I 
had  fallen  into  a  peaceful  doze, 
Billy  came  back  again,  and 
brought  HER  with  him.  Wow ! 
I  woke  up  with  a  jump,  just  as 
though  a  dog  had  nipped  at  my 
right  rear  wheel  without  bark- 
ing. 

She  was  medium-sized  and 
shaped  like  a  classy  little  runa- 
bout. She  had  dark  hair,  with 
a  saucy  toque  hat  on  one  side  of 
it,  and  a  feather  that  pointed  at 
someone  else's  eye.     II er  eyes 

44 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

were  slashers!  They  were  big 
and  soft  and  glorious!  I  can 
compare  them  only  with  a  com- 
pound electric  self-starter.  Her 
name  was  Ruth,  and  the  minute 
I  lamped  the  lady 

Pray  pardon  the  seeming  vul- 
garism. I  say  seeming,  because, 
while  the  expression  "to  lamp" 
a  person  may  be  slangy  and  in- 
correct for  human  use,  in  an 
automobile  it  is  eminently  prop- 
er. 

Where  was  I?  Oh,  yes!  The 
minute  I  lamped  the  lady  I  was 
in  for  life. 

She  came  right  up  to  me, 
placed  one  little  hand  on  my 
radiator  cap,  looked  at  me,  with 
her    head    on    one    side — and 

45 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

smiled.  Say,  boys!  Ever  been 
there?     Gee! 

This  was  enough;  but  when 
her  little  patent-leathered  foot 
and  its  silk-clad  ankle  went  over 
my  running  board  and  she 
plimiped  herself  down  into  my 
cushioned  arms  —  well  —  she 
could  pack  her  clothes  in  my 
tonneau  and  keep  them  there  till 
the  cows  came  home! 

"Really,  Billy,  I  entertain  a 
high  regard  for  your  selective 
gearing!" 

And  now  I  was  in  a  blue  funk. 
I  was  just  as  afraid  that  Ruth 
and  Billy  wouldiit  buy  me  as  I 
had  been  afraid  that  the  hippo 
would.  Then  the  lady  began  to 
ask  questions.     I   draw  a  veil 

46 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

over  most  of  them,  for  her 
knowledge  of  my  internal  mech- 
anism was  about  on  a  par  with 
Billy's,  only  hers  was  a  trifle 
more  feminine  and  disconcert- 
ing. If  she  had  to  start  me  by 
herself,  hanged  if  she  wouldn't 
try  to  do  it  by  twisting  my  tail 
light.  And  yet,  if  she  wanted  me 
to  start  that  way,  by  Jupiter,  I 
might! 

Finally  she  asked  if  I  were  the 
very  BEST  car  on  the  market. 
My  salesman  said  no,  I  wasn't. 
There  were  many  other  cars  of 
better  material  and  finer  finish; 
but,  for  the  money,  I  was  a  ma- 
chine that  would  "stand  up" 
under  rough  usage  and  run  with 
the  very  best.     "Besides,"  he 

47 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

added,  "you  might  find  it  eco- 
nomical to  learn  with  an  iyiex- 
pensive  car." 

Ruth  was  disappointed.  So 
was  I;  but  Billy  looked  at  it 
differently.  "My  dear,"  he 
whispered  to  the  pouting  little 
lady,  "this  is  the  first  salesman 
I  have  met  who  has  told  me  the 
truth,  straight  from  the  shoul- 
der; therefore  all  the  good  things 
he  says  about  it  must  be  true. 
It  will  be  half  yours,  you  know, 
and  if  you  like  this  one,  I'll  buy 
it — on  the  spot." 

Ruth  smiled  and  nodded ;  then 
just  as  I  was  about  to  whoop 
from  pure  delight,  the  whoop 
was  cut  short  by  a  complication. 
Billy  wanted  to  take  me  out  im- 

48 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

mediately;  but  what  do  you 
think  that  nasty  little  salesman 
said?  That  I  was  a  SAMPLE 
car!  He  could  get  another, 
exactly  like  me,  in  about  two 
weeks.  Well,  what  do  you  think 
of  that!  Another  car!  Exactly 
like  me!  To  go  on  my  honey- 
moon! Well,  by  Gosh!  If  there 
hadn't  been  a  lady  present  I'd 
have  given  that  little  snip  his 
proper  pedigree. 

Then  Billy  took  a  hand.  He 
said  he  wouldn't  postpone  his 
wedding,  no,  not  for  all  the  cars 
on  earth.  Be  darned  if  he  would ! 
He'd  take  me  now — cash  down 
— or  not  at  all. 

Good  old  Billy!  He  didn't 
know  machinery,  but  he  knew 

49 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

his  mind.  I  liked  that  boy- 
right  off  the  Httle  silver  reel. 

The  snip  of  a  salesman  said  he 
would  speak  to  the  general  man- 
ager, and  I  felt  instinctively  that 
my  goose  was  cooked.  That 
manager  had  office  rules,  and 
would  just  as  soon  think  of 
breaking  them  as  I  would  think 
of  breaking  my  driving  shaft.  Oh, 
gee,  it  was  over!  I  wouldn't  be 
married,  after  all!  I  was  going 
to  be  btimped,  dog-gone  it! 
Bumped ! 

Then  Ruth  stepped  up  to  the 
plate  and  dusted  the  handle  of 
her  diplomatic  bat. 

"No,"  she  said,  "77/ speak  to 
the  general  manager."  And  she 
went  upstairs  to  do  it. 

50 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Say !  It  was  all  right  now !  I 
knew  it !  When  Ruth  went  after 
anything,  she  got  it.  I  learned 
that  later  on.  As  for  the  general 
manager,  if  he  felt  about  her  as 
/  did,  he  would  not  only  break 
every  rule  in  the  office  and  the 
factory,  but  would  beg  her  to 
let  him  do  it,  as  a  favor. 

Billy  waited.  While  doing  so, 
he  sat  on  my  back  and  jiggled 
with  my  switch.  In  about  five 
minutes  the  lady  reappeared. 
She  was  flushed  and  excited,  but 
smiling.  From  the  balcony  she 
waved  her  hand  and  called  to 
Billy: 

"It's  all  right,  child  of  mine," 
she  laughed.  "Hurrah!  lie's 
ours!'' 

51 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Yes,  it  was  really  true !  I  was 
Billy's!  I  was  Ruth's!  I  was 
going  on  a  honeymoon.  I 
wanted  to  laugh!  To  howl!  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  my  brand-new 
owner  sitting  on  my  brand-new 
back,  by  Jupiter,  I  would  have 
bucked — bucked  in  pure  and  un- 
adulterated romantic  joy. 

Gosh  ding  it!     Wow! 


52 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 
CHAPTER  VI 

JOR  the  next  few  days 
Sl^Jd  Billy  had  an  instructor 
&^|7xj)§^  and  was  taught  to  run 
^^^  me.  Oh,  say!  I'd 
<^oEg^  rather  not  discuss  it, 
if  you  don't  mind.  It  was  too 
harrowing. 

At  any  rate,  on  the  fourth 
day  he  was  provided  with  a 
license  and  was  permitted,  hy 
law,  to  be  turned  loose  on  an 
innocent  public,  with  a  forty- 
horse-power  engine  of  destruc- 
tion, and  without  an  examina- 
tion of  his  eyes  or  brains. 

Dear  heart,  it  was  a  shame! 
I  remarked  previously  that  Billy 
had  nice  eyes.     My  opinion  of 

53 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

his  brains  had  not  improved  a 
particle. 

I  hoped,  with  all  my  gasolinic 
soul,  that  the  fairies  would  look 
after  him  till  the  cops  got  him. 
Hurrah  for  the  fairies!  They 
saved  the  precious  lives  of  nine 
infants  on  that  first  sad  morn- 
ing. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  garage 
they  had  to  rub  me  down.  It 
wasn't  merely  moisture  on  my 
body,  it  was  sweat;  and  believe 
me,  little  one,  that  sweat  was 
red! 

Heigh-ho!  but  what  is  trouble, 
after  all,  as  compared  with  the 
joy  of  anticipation?  We  were 
going  to  be  married!  At  least 
Billy  and  Ruth  were,  and  I  flat- 

54 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

tered  myself  that  this  was  one 
of  the  times  when  three  was 
company  and  not  a  crowd.  Yes, 
even  on  a  honeymoon! 

The  day  arrived  at  last!  By 
George,  it  was  a  day  to  swear 
by ;  and  when  I  rolled  out  of  that 
garage,  without  a  speck  of  dust 
on  my  glistening  coat,  hanged  if 
I  didn't  give  the  laugh  to  a  lilac- 
cushioned  limousine  that  tried 
to  pass  me. 

A  garage  employee  took  me 
round  to  her  father's  house  on 
Madison  Avenue  and  stopped  me 
at  the  curb.  I  wanted  to  go  in, 
of  course;  but  when  a  human, 
even  a  cheap  employee,  slaps  his 
foot  against  your  switch  and 
kills  yoiu"  gas,  you  stay  where 

55 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

you  are  put  and  you  keep  on 
staying  there. 

There  were  oodles  of  humans 
at  our  wedding,  but  I  had  the 
place  of  honor  at  the  open  door. 
After  a  while  two  side-whiskered 
grave  diggers  came  out  and  put 
the  luggage  into  me.  There  was 
one  brand-new  trunk,  four  brand- 
new  suit  cases,  three  satchels, 
overcoats  and  lap  robes,  two 
leather  ' '  varzes ' '  filled  with  golf 
clubs,  a  pair  of  tennis  racquets 
and  a  camera  and  some  flowers. 

"See  here,  my  merry-minded 
flunks,  what  in  blazes  do  you 
think  I  am?    A  moving  van?" 

The  smileless  ones  departed 
solemnly,  without  reply,  leaving 
me  rather  grumpy,  until  I  real- 

56 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

izcd  that  the  weight  in  my  ton- 
ncau  would  help  me  to  run  more 
steadily — for  Ruth.  So  I  smiled 
again  and  waited. 

It  was  over  in  half  an  hour; 
but  just  before  it  ended,  a  man 
came  out  and  started  me.  He 
speeded  me  up  a  trifle,  then 
muffled  me  down  and  left  me 
purring  peacefully,  a  thing  of 
speed  and  power,  alive  and  ready 
for  its  future  destiny. 

Suddenly  it  happened.  I 
heard  a  joyful  shout;  then  Ruth 
and  Billy  came  running  down 
the  steps  and  jumped  into  my 
two  front  seats,  followed  by 
laughter  and  a  shower  of  rat- 
tling rice. 

One  bow  -  legged,   pop  -  eyed 

57 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

idiot  threw  a  shoe  and  dented 
my  nice  new  mud  guard.  Dog- 
gone his  skin!  Suppose  he  had 
hit  my  girl !  Why  is  it  that  there 
must  always  be  just  one  black 
blotch  on  the  snowy  bosom  of 
— click !  — whir-r-r !  — zing ! — and 
we  were  off,  followed  by  happy, 
happy  wishes  and  another  clat- 
tering shower  of  rice! 

Billy  swung  out  of  Madison 
Avenue  and  threw  me  into  high. 
He  nearly  got  a  newsboy;  but 
this  was  pardonable  so  directly 
following  the  ceremony.  He 
lifted  one  arm  to  wipe  a  moist 
forehead  with  his  sleeve,  and 
aimed  me  at  a  church.  This 
may  have  happened  because  he 
had  a  home  wedding;  but,  please, 

58 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

please,  both  hands,  my  son. 
You'll  need  them. 

He  used  both  hands,  and  we 
wobbled  through  Forty-fourth 
Street,  headed  straight  for  Broad- 
way. We  should  have  turned 
up  Fifth  Avenue,  but  that  was 
Billy's  fault,  not  mine.  Remem- 
ber, dear,  that  young  Lochinvar 
was  at  the  wheel. 

We  got  into  Broadway.  Yes,  I 
knew  we  would,  and  the  roar  of 
traffic  surged  around  us  dizzily. 
Ah!  Better  than  I  thought! 
There  was  a  clear  space  ahead ,  and 
Billy  went  for  it  while  the  fruit 
was  ripe.  A  six-foot  htiman  at 
the  crossing  raised  his  hand,  but 
Billy  didn't  notice  him.     I  did! 

"B-R-R-R-R-R!" 

59 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

No,  it  wasn't  my  electric  horn 
that  handed  out  that  roar.  It 
was  the  cop.  You  bet  it  was, 
and  he  came  straight  for  us,  with 
blood  in  his  Irish  eye.  Billy  just 
had  sense  enough  to  jam  on  the 
brake  and  throw  me  into  neutral ; 
otherwise  I  would  have  stalled 
in  very  shame. 

Pinched!  Oh,  Lord!  And  on 
my  wedding  day!  Why,  why, 
did  I  ever  leave  that  peaceful 
little  village  of  Detroit! 

Billy  spluttered  and  apolo- 
gized, but  it  did  no  good.  His 
copship  got  out  his  book  and 
took  my  number.  Then  Ruth 
chipped  in  and  raised  the  ante. 
She  showed  that  cop  two  rows 
of  perfect  teeth  and  turned  her 

60 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

compound  electric  starters  on 
him ;  but  the  Irish  ruffian  refused 
point-blank  to  start.  Just  here  a 
strange  thing  happened.  He 
glanced  from  our  brand  new  bag- 
gage to  the  rice  in  our  darling's 
hat.  His  frown  departed,  and 
in  its  place  came  a  slow,  broad, 
kindly  grin. 

"G'wan!"  he  ordered,  with  a 
wave  of  his  big,  majestic  hand, 
"I  guess  ye'll  be  after  makin' 
more  throuble  f'r  yeselves  than 
me  an'  th'  cour-r-t  cud  give  ye. 
G'wan!" 

Saved!  By  a  grain  of  rice! 
But  don't  you  plume  yourselves, 
you  precious  pair  of  trouble- 
loving  doves;  you  are  going  to 
have  some  closer  calls  than  this! 

61 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

It  was  better  for  a  time,  till 
we  got  to  Coliimbus  Circle, 
where  Billy  nearly  tore  my  shoes 
off  when  he  heard  a  whistle  blow. 
The  whistle  was  for  him  to  cross, 
but  he  wasn't  taking  any  chances. 
That  boy  was  acquiring  brains, 
and,  unless  I  landed  in  the  scrap 
heap  first,  he  might  actually 
learn  to  drive  me. 

On  upper  Broadway  we 
passed  two  funerals  and  one 
political  parade,  going  our  way, 
of  course,  and  the  going  wasn't 
easy.  The  whole  of  New  York's 
populace  seemed  to  stroll  out 
singly  and  collectively  to  cross 
our  path. 

"G-r-r-r-r!"  would  grunt  my 
electric  horn.     "Get  out  of  my 

62 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

way,  you  swine ! ' '  They  wouldn't ! 
"Bah!"  would  say  the  populace, 
"Just  murder  us  if  you  dare,  and 
pay  the  Insurance  Company  sev- 
eral times  our  value.  Come  on! 
We  like  it!" 

And  children?  Geo!  They 
seemed  literally  hent  on  suicide, 
they  and  their  go-carts,  not  to 
mention  dogs.  Being  of  an  ac- 
commodating nature,  and  par- 
tially helped  by  Billy's  nervous- 
ness, there  were  times  when  it 
seemed  that  a  child  or  two  was 
almost  mine.  But  no!  I  was 
disappointed ! 

A  loaded  beer  truck  came 
staggering  out  of  One  Hundred 
and  First  Street,  and  took  a 
streak  of  paint  from  my  right 

63 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

rear  fender.  The  drunken  beast ! 
A  dear  old  lady  darted  around  a 
street  car  and  tried  to  cross. 
She  heard  my  electric  horn  and 
darted  back.  She  saw  the  street 
car  and  turned  again,  repeated 
the  manoeuvre  several  times,  in 
the  manner  of  a  bewildered  Dago 
laborer  or  a  hen;  then  fell  down 
flat  between  my  two  front  paws. 

She  was  helped  up  and  told  to 
go  home;  but  positively  refused 
to  do  so  till  she  told  us  what  she 
thought  of  us.  She  did  it  well 
for  an  old  lady,  so  we  thanked 
her  politely  and  started  out 
again  on  our  joyous  wedding 
tour. 

At  iioth  Street  Billy  stopped 
me  beside  the  curb.    His  collar 

64 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

was  wilted  down  to  nowhere,  and 
his  undershirt  declined  to  hold 
another  drop  of  moisture. 
"Why  are  we  stopping,  dear?" 
The  bridegroom  did  not  an- 
swer her  immediately.  He  took 
off  his  leather  gloves,  deliber- 
ately. He  took  out  his  handker- 
chief and  mopped  his  hot,  wet 
face. 

"Darling,"  he  whispered  into 
her  shell-like  ear,  "I  know  it's 
our  wedding  day,  but  I've  got 
to  have  a  drink.    I  need  it!" 


65 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  VII 

:HEN  Billy  came  out 
he  looked  better. 
He  probably  felt  as 
I  do  when  a  quart 
or  two  of  cool  liquid 
is  poured  into  my  radiator  after 
an  exciting  piece  of  work.  He 
started  me  up  and  off  we  went 
again,  this  time  smoothly  and 
without  a  hitch .  1 1  was  probably 
due  to  that  lordly  stimulant. 

We  conquered  Yonkers  nicely, 
with  a  balk  or  so  at  the  crowded 
square  and  a  couple  of  blisters 
on  my  brake  bands.  We  turned 
to  the  left,  then  right,  and  all 
three   of  us  heaved   a   sigh   of 

66 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

peace  as  we  struck  the  smooth, 
broad  avenue. 

An  unobstructed  road  at  last ! 
The  bliss  of  a  honeymoon  had 
now  begun,  and  a  new,  young 
world  was  open,  macadamized, 
and  ready  for  us  to  roll  upon  it, 
happily. 

We  were  sneaking  along  at 
twenty  miles  an  hour,  contented, 
fearless,  and  without  an  earthly 
care;  and  so  I  began  to  dream. 
By  George,  I  guess  I  was  just 
about  the  luckiest  little  car  from 
Maine  to  Texas!  Sold — within 
a  week — and  sold  to  her!  To 
Ruth!  The  finest  piece  of  un- 
mechanical  femininity  that  ever 
sat  on  a  fellow's  back!  Ah! 
That  was  the  point!     On  me! 

67 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

I  was  the  one  to  carry  her !  Yes, 
I!  Billy  was  there,  of  course; 
but  Billy  was  just  a  passenger. 
/  was  the  chap  to  engineer  that 
honeymoon,  and  to  see  that  the 
moon  was  bright  and  the  honey 
sweet!  And  dang  my  compres- 
sion if  I  wouldn't  see  her 
through !  I'd  make  my  cushions 
soft  and  snug — for  HER!  I'd 
ease  my  springs,  in  their  every 
fine  steel  leaf— for  HER!  I'd 
avoid  the  bumpy  places,  and  run 
with  an  easy,  noiseless  tread — 
for  HER!  And  then,  in  the 
evening,  when  the  run  was  done 
■ — Wow!     It  happened! 

I  had  almost  plunged  into  an 
open  culvert,  and  nearly  frac- 
tured my  steering  gear  in  getting 

68 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

back  to  earth  again.  And  then 
I  realized  it !  All  in  one  horrible, 
hideous,  self  -  accusing  punch. 
My  God!  I  was  in  love!  With 
another  fellow's  wife! 

And  yet  I  retained  one  soften- 
ing dab  of  consolation.  It  was 
wrong  of  me  to  be  in  love  with 
Ruth,  of  course;  but  how  about 
that  culvert?  Don't  you  forget, 
dear  heart,  that  the  groom,  not 
I,  was  at  the  steering  wheel! 

"Say,  Billy,  old  chap!  You 
were  dreaming  the  same  dreams 
/  was,  weren't  you?  Well,  you 
wake  up,  my  son,  and  keep  your 
eyes  on  the  road!" 

That's  what  /  did,  anyway. 
It  pays.  There  is  some  rather 
striking  scenery  along  the  Hud- 

69 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

son;  but  I  didn't  notice  it.  The 
Cop  of  Carelessness  had  given 
me  a  warning. 

After  this  we  got  on  swim- 
mingly, till  we  passed  through 
Peekskill,  and  here  we  crossed  a 
trolley  track.  This  latter  inci- 
dent, in  itself,  may  strike  you 
as  being  trivial.    It  wasn't. 

The  crossing  referred  to  was  a 
rough  one .  The  rails  stood  up  f  oiu* 
inches  above  their  bed,  and  Billy 
made  me  take  it  at  twenty-five 
miles  an  hour.  My  front  wheels 
hit  the  rail,  and  jumped.  This 
wasn't  so  bad  because  they  were 
running  free.  But  with  my  back 
wheels  it  was  different.  They 
struck  with  weight  and  power  on 
top   of  them,    and   my   springs 

70 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

rebelled.  Up  went  my  whole 
rear  end.  My  engine,  for  an  in- 
stant, raced;  then  I  landed  with 
a  shock  that  jarred  me  to  the 
teeth — and  did  it  all  over  again 
on  the  second  rail. 

"Say,  Billy!  DonH  do  that! 
You  mortify  me !  For  the  Lord '  s 
sake,  boy,  display  a  little  mercy 
and  intelligence!  Either  slow 
down  and  take  a  crossing  easily, 
or  throw  out  my  clutch  to  dis- 
connect my  engine!  Yes,  you 
idiot,  and  take  your  foot  off  my 
accelerator  while  you're  doing 
it!" 

''The  idea  of  jouncing  me  like 
that!  I'm  not  a  pile-driver! 
I'm  a  car!  If  you  don't  believe 
it,  look  at  the  luggage  in  my 

71 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

tonneau!  Look  at  your  wife's 
smashed  hat  and  its  crippled 
feather!  Aha!  And  look  at  the 
way  she's  looking  at  it!  Call 
that  a  honeymoon  expression? 
Well,  I  don't!  It's  a  hard,  cold, 
silent  criticism  of  a  vacuum- 
headed  jackass!  Now  then! 
We'll  start  all  over  again.  No 
hard  feelings,  though.  Come 
on!" 

We  went.  I  tried  to  banish 
the  incident  from  my  system, 
but  I  couldn't ;  it  was  too  much 
to  expect.  Shortly  after  this  we 
passed  a  cemetery,  and  I  took  my 
eyes  off  the  road  long  enough  to 
speculate  as  to  how  soon  all  three 
of  us  would  repose  in  some  such 
peaceful  spot;  then,  presently, 

72 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

I  lost  my  grouch  in  the  joy  of 
running. 

We  had  gone  perhaps  ten 
miles,  when,  without  a  warning, 
I  felt  a  short,  sharp  stab  in  my 
right  hind  foot.  I  didn't  know 
the  meaning  of  it  at  the  moment. 
It  was  my  first  experience;  but 
when  I  heard  the  hiss  of  slowly 
escaping  air,  I  knew! 

But  do  you  think  those  dovies 
paid  the  least  attention  to  that 
sound?  Not  they!  They  sat  on 
my  back  and  serenely  billed  and 
cooed,  while  I,  the  most  impor- 
tant part  of  their  bridal  trip, 
was  limping  along  on  a  flat  tire. 
Yet,  presently,  the  bridegroom 
spake,  and  his  mouth  was  the 
mouth  of  wisdom: 

73 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

"I  wonder  why  the  choo-choo 
keeps  bearing  to  the  right.  I 
actually  have  to  hold  it  in  the 
road.  Oh,  well,  in  the  morning 
I'll  take  a  look." 

There  you  are!  He'd  look  at 
me  in  the  morning!  Oh,  you 
chuckle-headed  imbecile !  Don't 
you  know  I'm  trying  to  tell  you 
th  at  there '  s  something  wrong ,  and 
you  ought  to  correct  now!  What's 
that?  Then  doiit!  It's  nothing 
to  me,  you  know.  Vm  merely 
chewing  up  the  fabric  of  a  forty- 
dollar  tire.  I  like  it!  I'm  rather 
destructive  in  my  tendencies; 
but  don't  you  forget,  old  sport, 
that  forty  dollars  would  almost 
buy  our  Ruth  another  hat — in 


74 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

place  of  the  one  you  telescoped 
at  the  railroad  crossing. 

Ha!  Mental  telepathy!  I 
actually  forced  a  ray  or  two  of  it 
upon  Ruth.  At  least,  the  mo- 
ment my  mind  induced  her  mind 
to  dwell  upon  a  new  hat,  she 
came  to  my  rescue  like  a  medium 
and  a  lady. 

"Darling,"  she  murmured  to 
the  accomplished  mechanician 
at  her  side,  "haven't  you  noticed 
a  sort  of — er — bumpity-bumpy 
feeling  in  our  car?" 

He  ought  to  have  noticed  it. 
That  bumpity  -  bumpy  feeling 
was  caused  by  my  valve-shield 
hitting  the  gravel  each  time  my 
wheel    turned    over.       Anyone 


75 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

other  than  a  love  -  demented 
moon-calf  would  certainly 
have 

"Why,  yes,"  cooed  Billy.  "I've 
been  wondering  what  it  was  for 
the  last  three  miles." 

He  drove  on  happily,  and  held 
me  in  the  road. 

"  Darling,"  commanded  Ruth, 
"I  really  thmk  you  ought  to  get 
out  and  see  about  it." 

The  lord  of  our  house  obeyed. 
He  climbed  down  and  came  be- 
hind me,  stood  thoughtfully  for 
a  moment  till  he  noticed  my 
poor,  flat  shoe;  then  a  great  in- 
telligence descended  upon  him, 
in  one  glorious.  Heaven-lit 
flood. 

"By     Jove!"     declared     the 

76 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

bridegroom.  "  If  we  haven't  got 
a  puncture!" 

"My  goodness!"  squealed  the 
blushing  bride.  "Whatever  shall 
we  do?" 

"Fix  it,"  returned  our  stal- 
wart child  of  wisdom,  as  he  shed 
his  coat.  "  According  to  printed 
instructions,  it  ought  to  take  me 
just  four  minutes." 

It  did.  Four  minutes  to  the 
dot — plus  two  hours  and  seven- 
teen other  minutes. 


77 


AN  AUTO -BIOGRAPHY 
CHAPTER  VIII 

^ AY,  boys !  Did  you  ever 
see  a  novice  change 
a  shoe?  Well,  take  it 
from  me,  it's  worth  the 
price  of  two  front-row 
seats,  secured  from  a  speculator. 
It  isn't  a  comedy,  though. 
It's   tragedy. 

The  scene  is,  usually,  as  fol- 
lows: A  dusty,  hot  and  lonely 
road ;  a  disabled  auto,  and  a  pair 
of  youthful  innocents  made  up 
for  the  parts. 

Discovered;  our  hero,  rolling 

up  his  sleeves,  his  manly  muscles 

displayed  to  our  admiring  view. 

Discovered;  our  heroine,  cool 

and  sweet  and  perfectly  serene, 

78 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

seated  gracefully  on  a  soft  cush- 
ion, and  fully  prepared  to  offer 
expert  mechanical  advice  with- 
out the  slightest  provocation. 

And  so  the  play  begins.  The 
jack,  the  tools,  and  other  im- 
portant ' '  properties ' '  in  the  trag- 
edy are  under  the  car's  rear  seat. 
The  rear  seat  is  under  a  moun- 
tain pile  of  luggage.  Why  this 
is,  God  knows;  yet  the  rule 
seems  fixed  with  ninety  per  cent 
of  tourists. 

Pray  pardon  the  digression. 
Billy  portered  out  the  luggage 
and  placed  it  carefully  on  the 
edge  of  a  ditch  behind  him. 
Then  he  jacked  me  up,  after  the 
manner  of  a  master-mechanic — 
on  a  spree.  This  ended  the  first  act. 

79 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

The  hero  wiped  his  manly 
forehead  with  the  back  of  a 
greasy  hand,  got  out  the  tool  kit 
and  unrolled  it.  I  saw  it,  out  of 
the  corner  of  my  side  lamp,  and 
felt  like  the  fellow  in  the  dentist's 
chair,  hopeful,  but  a  little  fear- 
ful. There  were  certain  roots  I 
wanted  to  retain,  yet,  even  in 
Billy's  competent  hands,  I  was 
just  a  little  nervous. 

He  unbolted  my  demountable 
rim  and  removed  the  valve  cap, 
according  to  instructions;  then 
he  placed  both  hands  on  the  top 
of  my  tire,  braced  himself,  and 
heaved — but  not  according  to 
instructions.    He  reaped  results. 

The  removal  of  that  rim  re- 
quired one  child  power,  instead 

80 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

of  a  hero  and  a  half  power.  Our 
particular  hero — and  the  tire — 
went  backward  into  the  ditch 
already  mentioned,  carrying  two 
suit  cases  and  a  golf  bag  with 
him.  Our  heroine  screamed  de- 
lightfully. 

Billy  fished  up  the  suit  cases, 
poured  a  gallon  of  dirty  water 
out  of  the  golf  bag,  squeezed 
some  more  of  it  from  the  back 
of  himself — and  smiled.  Yes,  he 
did!    He  smiled! 

"By  George,"  he  observed, 
"I  didn't  think  the  thing  could 
come  off  quite  so  easily!" 

Thus  ended  the  second  act. 

The  third  was  more  dramatic, 

but  it  ran  too  long.     The  plot 

was  this :    We  were  carrying  one 

81 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

extra  tire,  mounted  on  its  rim, 
pumped  up  and  ready  for  emer- 
gency; but  no  plot  is  worth  a 
hang  without  a  complication, 
and,  as  usual,  the  hero  made  it. 
Billy  had  forethought  (wonderful 
little  word)  and  he  used  it  then 
and  there. 

"Suppose,"  he  argued,  "we 
had  another  puncture  without 
another  tire.  Then  where  would 
we  be,  I  ask  you?  Where?  No, 
sir-ee,  you  don't  catch  me  up  any 
such  tree,  by  gee!  I'm  going  to 
change  that  inner  tube!" 

He  started  out  to  do  it.  The 
process — according  to  printed 
instructions — was  absurdly  sim- 
ple. The  authors  of  that  in- 
spired pamphlet  direct,  as  fol- 

82 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

lows:  "Remove  plate  A  from 
inner  rim  directly  across  break 
B.  Insert  tire  iron  between  rim 
and  shoe,  C,  D,  and  pry  latter 
loose.  Twist  rim  sharply,  and 
the  tire  drops  off." 

The  LIARS!  I  don't  want  to 
knock  the  automobile  business; 
but  I'll  bet  myself  against  a  push 
cart  that  those  high-browed, 
science-reeking  authors  worked 
out  their  tire-removing  theory 
with  a  piece  of  bent  tin  and  a 
doughnut. 

Billy  didn't  know  this,  so  he 
went  to  work — whistling.  He 
secured  the  services  of  a  tire 
iron,  a  cold  chisel  and  a  large 
hammer;  then  paused  to  consult 
the  pamphlet.  He  removed  plate 

83 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

A  from  directly  across  break  B. 
He  inserted  the  edge  of  the  tire 
iron  between  rim  and  shoe,  C,  D, 
struck  at  the  top  of  tire  iron,  E, 
with  hammer,  F,  missed  it  and 
smashed  his  finger.    Gee! 

This  last  part  wasn't  in  the 
book,  but  Billy  did  it  perfectly. 
He  sucked  his  finger,  laid  the 
book  aside  forever,  and  went  to 
work  again.  He  fought  with 
that  shoe,  like  a  warrior  and  a 
gentleman,  but  he  couldn't 
budge  it.  He  turned  it  over  and 
attacked  it  on  the  other  side, 
using  the  tire  iron  in  one  hand 
and  the  cold  chisel  in  the  other; 
yet  points  C,  D,  declined  posi- 
tively to  be  pried  apart. 

Then  Billy  stood  up,  took  the 

84 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

tire  between  his  legs,  reached 
underneath  and  strove  to  disem- 
bowel it.  By  this  time  he  was 
mad  clean  through.  His  hair  was 
wet,  and  it  hung  down  in  his  eyes. 

"Darling,"  suggested  Ruth, 
"why  don't  you  try  that  little 
screw  driver?" 

Billy  cursed  soulfully  in  an 
undertone,  but  made  no  audible 
reply. 

' '  Darling! '  *  repeated  Ruth, 
with  a  slightly  wounded  air,  "I 
said — why  don't  you  try  the 
screw  driver?" 

Billy  seized  the  weapon  and 
jabbed  it  viciously  in  the  general 
direction  of  C,  D,  twisted  it  and 
broke  it  off  at  the  handle. 

"There  you  are,"  he  observed 

85 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

sweetly.  "It's  a  wonder  we 
hadn't  thought  of  it  before." 

The  heroine  pouted  divinely, 
turned  her  back  on  the  hero,  and 
regarded  the  landscape  with  a 
far-off,  bored  expression.  The 
hero  went  to  work. 

Personally  I  hadn't  had  any 
afternoon  nap,  so  I  closed  my 
lamps  and  took  it.  Fifty  min- 
utes later,  when  I  woke  up,  that 
tire  had  not  dropped  off. 

"Precious,"  suggested  Ruth, 
"perhaps  if  you'd  oil  it  thor- 
oughly  " 

But  Billy  interrupted.  He 
rose  up  from  the  grovmd,  butted 
his  head  on  my  mud  guard,  and 
looked  the  wife  of  his  bosom  in 
the  eye. 

86 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

"Dear  child,"  he  purred,  but 
with  a  germ  of  murder  in  the 
tone,  "will  you  kindly  oblige  me 
and  take  a  walk?" 

The  dear  child  did  it.  She 
flounced  out  of  my  front  seat, 
annihilated  Billy  with  her  elec- 
tric starters,  then  went  away 
with  her  back  up,  leaving  me 
blinking  sadly  after  her. 

Poor  Billy  was  lonely,  too. 
Maybe  that  was  the  dagger 
point  which  goaded  him.  At 
any  rate,  he  flew  at  his  work  like 
a  demon  and  literally  tore  that 
rim  and  shoe  apart.  I  don't 
know  how  he  did  it.  I  was  look- 
ing up  the  road — at  Ruth. 

He  removed  the  punctured 
tube  and  stuffed  a  new  one  in. 

87 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

He  hadn't  noticed  that  the  fab- 
ric of  my  shoe  was  cracked  wide 
open  from  a  three-mile  run  upon 
it,  nor  that  the  outside  rubber 
directly  opposite  the  crack  was 
chafed  and  bruised.  Why  should 
he  notice  it  ?  His  mind  was  above 
such  trifles. 

Then  Ruth  came  back,  re- 
pentantly, and  kissed  him.  It 
looked  like  repentance;  but  she 
may  have  returned  because  she 
had  one  last  suggestion,  and 
couldn't  hold  it. 

"Sweetheart,"  she  murmured, 
"you  look  so  hot  and  tired. 
Hadn't  we  better  put  those  hor- 
rid things  inside  the  car  and  use 
the  wheel  that's  ready?" 

Now  this  was  sense;  just  com- 

88 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

mon,  every-day,  good  horse- 
sense;  but  the  hero  wouldn't 
have  it. 

"My  dear,"  he  answered,  and 
his  jaw  looked  square  and  fine, 
"/'m  going  to  fix  this  tire — if  it 
takes  till  the  end  of  my  honey- 
moon!'" 

By  Jupiter,  that  boy  had  grit ! 
But  Ruth  was  a  female  and 
couldn't  appreciate  it.  She 
climbed  on  my  back,  huddled 
herself  in  a  corner  of  my  seat 
and  began  crying  softly,  un- 
consciously dabbing  at  her  eyes 
with  a  piece  of  oily  waste. 

Billy  put  the  shoe  on  the  rim. 
He  must  have  done  it  acciden- 
tally. Otherwise  it  couldn't  have 
been  done.    Then  he  pumped  it 

80 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

up  with  a  foot  pump  till  I  thought 
the  poor  boy  would  burst.  Mean- 
while Ruth  said  nothing.  Billy 
sat  down  on  my  running  board 
and  rested  for  a  minute,  then 
tottered  to  his  feet  and  bolted 
the  rim  in  place.  He  skinned  his 
knuckles,  but  he  didn't  even 
swear.  In  silence  he  let  me 
down  and  put  away  the  jack 
and  other  tools.  In  silence  he 
stored  the  luggage  in  my  ton- 
neau,  and  climbed  into  the  driv- 
er's seat. 

Then  he  apologized,  like  a 
fine,  brave  man,  and  kissed  her. 

"Well,  SLnyway,''  smiled  Ruth 
looking  tenderly  into  his  moist 
and  grime-smeared  countenance, 
"when  we  get  to  Albany,  they'll 

90 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

never  take  us  for  a  bride  and 
groom." 

"Huh!"  said  the  hero,  and 
threw  me  into  high. 

We  covered  two  more  miles, 
then — hang!  No,  it  wasn't  a 
back-fire.  I  had  blown  out  that 
criminally  neglected  shoe. 

When  Ruth  was  made  to  un- 
derstand the  nature  of  the  trou- 
ble, she  started  in  to  tell  her 
brand-new  husband  that  if  he  had 
only  followed  her  advice  in  the 
first  instance — .  But  she  checked 
herself  in  time.  If  she  hadn't, 
her  brand-new  husband  would 
have  driven  her  straight  to  a 
divorce  court,  on  a  flat  tire. 

He  got  out,  jacked  me  up 
again,  and  unbolted  the  afflicted 

91 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

shoe.  He  threw  it  into  the  ton- 
neau,  and  bolted  on  the  other 
one.  He  let  me  down,  replaced 
the  jack  and  luggage,  and  we 
took  up  the  march  again.  We 
didn't  march  far,  however.  We 
were  all  too  tired.  We  stopped 
at  the  first  road -house  we  came 
to.  It  didn't  look  like  much, 
but  it  smelled  of  rest. 

Billy  got  out  and  made  ar- 
rangements. Then  Ruth  got  out 
and  disappeared,  leaving  me 
blinking  sadly  after  her.  Billy 
and  the  clerk  took  out  the  lug- 
gage. Then  Billy  got  wearily  on 
my  back  again  and  drove  me 
around  to  the  stable  yard.  Here 
he  came  upon  a  big,  vacant-eyed 
Hungarian  in  charge. 
92 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

"Say,"  said  Billy,  pointing  at 
me  with  a  black  and  oily  thumb, 
"just  roll  this  somewhere,  will 
you  ?  A  nywhere!  I '  m  hungry — 
and  I'm  too  damn  tired  to  eat!" 


93 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  IX 

SPENT  the  night  in 
the  stable.       I  didn't 
sleep     much.       I 
couldn't.    I  detest  the 
smell  of  horses! 
There  was  one  right  next  to 
me,   a  knock-kneed,  flea-bitten 
old  devil,  who  devoured  oats  and 
hay  and  other  truck  the  whole 
night  long.     I  could  hear  him 
crunching    every    minute.      He 
wasn't  a  horse.    He  was  a  hog! 
I  asked  him  to  have  a  drink 
of  gasoline,  in  the  hope  that  he 
would  die;  but  he  said:     "No, 
thank  you,  sir.     I'd  like  to,  aw- 
fully; but  I  pull  the  temperance 
wagon,  and  the  boss  might  smell 
94 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

my  breath  and  kick  me  in  the 
slats." 

No,  he  wasn't  a  hog.  He  was 
a  fool!  What  do  you  think  he 
did?  Woke  me  up  out  of  a 
sound  sleep  at  three  o'clock  to 
tell  me  he  had  thought  of  a  joke. 
Said  he  was  a  self-starter.  Then 
he  whinnied  for  fifteen  minutes, 
in  blatant,  asinine  delight. 

I  didn't  even  curse  him.  What 
was  the  use?  There's  a  kind  of 
humor  in  this  world  that  profan- 
ity has  no  effect  upon. 

About  five  he  waked  me  up 
again,  lashed  at  a  couple  of  flies 
with  his  mangy  tail,  and  called 
my  attention  to  his  "electric 
switch." 

Say!    What  are  you  going  to 

95 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

do  with  a  fellow  like  that?  If 
hes  the  kind  of  acquaintance  one 
has  to  meet  on  one's  honeymoon, 
hanged  if  I'm  not  sorry  I  didn't 
remain  a  bachelor. 

Presently  he  started  on  an- 
other joke. 

"Oh,  dry  up!''  I  told  him. 

"I  did,''  he  retorted,  "when  I 
joined  the  temperance  union." 
Then  he  laughed  again,  till  his 
coarse  amusement  shook  his 
smelly  stable  and  alarmed  the 
rats. 

I  looked  about  me  for  some- 
thing to  throw  at  him,  but 
thought  better  of  it.  I  knew  if 
I  did  throw  it,  he  would  giggle 
and  make  a  pun  about  it;  so  I 
gritted  the  teeth  of  every  cog 

96 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

wheel  inside  of  me,  and  held  my 
peace.  But  never  mind.  Some 
day  I  hope  to  catch  him  on  the 
road. 

In  the  morning  Billy  came  out 
and  looked  at  me.  He  had  on 
his  duster  and  his  gloves,  which 
gave  me  the  hope  of  parting 
company  with  that  humor-poi- 
soned horse;  but  Billy  disap- 
pointed me.  He  regarded  me 
sheepishly,  came  toward  me 
sidewise,  got  as  far  as  my  run- 
ning board,  stalled,  and  went 
back  into  the  roadhouse. 

I  know  now  what  was  the 
matter  with  him.  Nerves!  A 
beginner  is  far  more  nervous  be- 
fore he  starts  than  at  any  other 
time.    A  hideous  fear  comes  over 

97 


AN  AUTO.BIOGI<APHY 

him  that  he  is  going  to  back  into 
something  and  wound  the  in- 
surance company,  or  commit 
foul  murder  in  the  broad  of  day 
when  he  shifts  his  gears. 

"But  don't  you  worry,  son. 
You'll  soon  get  over  it,  when  you 
learn  to  shift  without  looking  at 
the  lever,  and  begin  to  think 
with  your  feet." 

In  half  an  hour  he  came  out 
again,  this  time  with  his  jaw 
squared,  and  we  backed  out 
slowly  and  without  calamity.  I 
was  in  a  nasty,  ugly  humor;  but, 
still  it  was  something  to  be  rid 
of  that  horse.  He  called  after 
me  to  ask  if  I  knew  the  differ- 
ence between  a  horse's  bridle,  a 
bridal  trip,  and  a  direct  drive; 

98 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

but  I  never  heard  the  answer. 
I  turned  sharply  and  bolted  for 
the  road. 

We  ran  around  to  the  front 
and  stopped  at  the  block  after 
only  three  attempts.  Billy  and 
the  clerk  put  in  the  baggage. 
Billy  gave  the  clerk  a  half  a  dol- 
lar. The  clerk  accepted  it  and 
displayed  his  gratitude  by  spit- 
ting on  my  mud  guard.  I  guess 
he  must  have  been  the  owner  of 
the  horse. 

Then  Ruth  came  out.  Ah! 
It  was  different  now!  Quite 
different!  The  world  lit  up, 
just  as  though  you  had  turned 
on  an  electric  switch.  No,  I 
don't  mean  a  horse's  tail.  I 
mean  what  I  say — a  switch! 

99 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

It  was  funny  about  that  girl. 
She  had  me  going;  and  what  is 
more,  she  kept  me  going,  I  ex- 
perienced a  positive  feehng  of 
auto-intoxication  every  time  she 
evensatonme.  Oh!  Excuse  me. 
I  must  have  caught  the  tendency 
out  there  in  that  smelly  stable. 

Well,  we  started.  We  had 
intended  yesterday  to  make  Al- 
bany our  first  stop.  We  had 
come  forty-eight  miles  and  two- 
tenths.  Albany  is  a  hundred 
and  fifty.  But  never  mind ;  we'd 
make  it  up  today. 

The  above  were  Billy's  rumi- 
nations, not  mine.  Personally  I 
thought  we  were  lucky  to  have 
gotten  past  Forty-fifth  Street. 

We  lunched  at  Wappingers 
100 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Falls.  Say,  boys!  Now  isn't 
that  a  name  to  curse  a  village 
with?  It  will  never  be  a  town. 
It  can't.  The  title  is  discourag- 
ing to  artistic  building  and  to 
social  progress. 

Anyway,  we  lunched  at  Wap- 
pingers  Falls  and  spent  a  restless 
night  in  Poughkeepsie.  In  the 
morning  Billy  blew  me  to  a  pair 
of  shoes  and  an  automatic  pump. 
I  think  he  bought  the  pump  for 
himself;  but  I  don't  want  to 
seem  ungrateful. 

We  were  all  right  now,  and 
ready  to  face  what  happy  For- 
tune flung.  Billy  did  the  fling- 
ing. Fortune  was  out  of  busi- 
ness and  hadn't  said  where  she 
moved. 

101 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

The  day  was  superb.  I  mean 
from  a  weather  point  of  view. 
For  me  it  held  naught  save 
chunks  and  chunks  of  clammy, 
oppressive  gloom.  Our  hero 
started  in,  right  off  the  bat,  to 
take  the  conceit  out  of  me.  You 
know,  I  never  did  think  much 
of  Billy,  either  as  a  mechanic  or 
a  bridegroom;  but  as  the  cham- 
pion vanity-smasher  of  all  the 
world,  I  reward  him  with  the 
buttered  muffin. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
stop  me  on  a  long,  steep  hill. 
Then  he  couldn't  start  again. 
When  he  released  my  brake  I 
began  to  roll  backward.  Why 
not?  You  don't  expect  me  to 
go  forward  and  backward  at  the 
102 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

same  time,  do  you?  Billy 
jammed  on  the  emergency,  sat 
still  and  tried  to  work  it  out. 
Our  Ruth  was  there  with  a  few 
suggestions.  You  know,  it 
wasn't  a  habit  with  her.  It  was 
a  trait;  and  I've  since  observed 
that  it's  as  much  a  part  of  a 
woman  as  her  powder  rag.  Some- 
times they  lose  the  rag ;  but  they 
keep  the  trait. 

What  the  hero  should  have 
done  was  simple.  Throw  me 
into  first.  Apply  my  power 
gradually,  and  gradually  release 
the  emergency.  All  I  wanted 
was  to  catch  my  balance,  and 
I'd  take  that  hill  without  a  jerk; 
but  Billy  wouldn't  think  of  any- 
thing   so    intricate.      What    he 

103 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

ought  to  do  is  to  drive  a  tem- 
perance wagon — and  that  horse. 

Ruth  suggested  that  we  back 
down  very  slowly  to  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  get  on  level  ground 
and  then  start  up  again;  but 
Billy  rejected  the  scheme  for  one 
of  his  own  and  a  better  one. 
He  turned  me  almost  crosswise, 
backed  me  into  a  tree  and  put 
my  eye  out.  I  liked  that  eye. 
I  needed  it  for  rear-end  casual- 
ties; but  that  wasn't  Billy's  busi- 
ness just  at  present.  He  smiled 
in  triumph,  when  the  tree  trunk 
held  me  firmly,  and  I  growled  up 
the  hill  on  first. 

I  forgot  to  say  I  had  been  run- 
ning on  my  dry  cell  batteries 
ever  since  we  left  Poughkeepsie ; 
104 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

but  look  here!  I'm  too  disgusted 
to  go  on  with  this  chapter.  If 
you  don't  mind,  I'll  continue  the 
history  of  my  degradation  in  the 
next  chapter.  Thank  you.  You, 
at  least,  have  some  consideration 
for  a  self-respecting  auto.  Brides 
and  grooms  are  apt  to  be  rather 
flighty.  I  suppose  it's  a  sort  of 
trait. 


105 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  X 

■ID  you  ever  hear  of 
a  man  committing 
two  separate  and 
distinct  crimes  on 
his  wedding  trip  ? 
Well,  Billy  did,  and  both  were 
done  to  me.  Of  course  there 
were  more  than  two.  He  broke 
every  commandment  in  an  auto's 
ritual  of  "Don'ts";  but  at  pres- 
ent I  refer  to  these  especial  two. 
We  had  spent  the  night  in  Al- 
bany. In  the  morning  my  gen- 
erous owner  bought  me  eleven 
gallons  of  gasoline,  but  no  oil. 

We  started.    I  didn't  want  to 
start.     In  fact,   I   tried  not  to 
start;  but  when  I  felt  that  elec- 
106 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

trie  juice  shoot  into  me — well,  I 
simply  had  to. 

We  got  out  of  town  and  struek 
a  broad,  smooth  asphalt  road. 
Billy  and  Ruth  were  happy.  I 
wasn't.  True,  I  had  some  oil, 
but  there  were  air  bubbles  in  it, 
and  I  didn't  like  the  feeling.  It 
made  me  nervous  and  a  little 
warm.  We  covered  fifteen  miles 
and  then  I  began  to  itch  and 
bum,  as  though  I  had  invited  a 
million  fleas  inside  of  me,  for 
lunch.  My  oil  pump  was  pump- 
ing air,  and  I  missed  my  splash. 

The  bride  and  groom?  Why, 
bless  you,  they  were  there  all 
right,  perched  on  my  back  and 
having  the  time  of  their  sweet 
young  lives.  I  tell  you,  it  made 
107 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

me  hot!  They  were  laughing! 
Singing!  Oh,  it  wasn't  fair!  It 
wasn't !  They  had  everything — 
in  the  whole  wide  world — to 
make  them  happy.  And  here 
was  I!  Half  crazy!  Feverish 
and  hot!  Pleading  with  them! 
Crying  to  them,  as  near  as  an 
auto  can,  for  just  a  little  pity — 
and  a  quart  of  oil! 

Of  course  I  don't  blame  the 
girl.  I  can't!  I  love  her!  But 
oh,  you  William!  If  it  wasn't 
for  Ruth,  I'd  dump  you  into  the 
nearest  ditch  and  jump  on  top 
of  you !  ^ 

Say!  What  do  you  think  the 
blatherskite  was  doing?  Driv- 
ing! With  one  hand!  And  the 
other    arm    around    our    wife! 

108 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

He  was  perfectly  happy,  William 
was,  and  happiness  breeds  pace. 
He  hit  me  up  to  a  thirty-mile 
clip  and  hugged  his  soul-mate 
till  her  corset  cracked! 

"Oh,  Billy,  Billy,  please!"  I 
tried  to  call.  "I'm  doing  my 
very  best,  indeed  I  am;  but  for 
your  sake,  and  for  mine,  stop 
thinking  of  the  girl  for  just  five 
minutes,  and  give  me  oil!" 

He  didn't!  We  went  on  for 
five  more  miles,  and  stopped. 
Now  maybe  you  think  this  was 
the  end  of  my  troubles.  It 
wasn't.  It  was  the  black  fore- 
runner of  the  second  crime. 

We  stopped  at  a  crossroad  to 
ask  directions  of  a  native.  There 
was  a  big  sign  post  in  full  view, 

109 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

with  an  arrow  pointing  straight 
ahead;  but  Billy  didn't  notice  it. 
The  native  told  us  to  use  our 
eyes  and  follow  our  fool  noses. 
We  thanked  him  courteously 
and  did  it.  That's  where  the 
crime  developed  from  a  bud  into 
a  blossom,  and  gave  me  a  dis- 
taste for  flowers. 

In  stopping,  Billy  muffled  me 
down  to  save  my  gas.  This  was 
considerate.  In  starting,  he  for- 
got to  advance  my  spark.    This 

wasn't  considerate.     It  was 

Say!  I  did  put  down  what  I 
thought  of  Billy;  but  the  pub- 
lisher wouldn't  print  it.  He 
probably  doesn't  own  an  auto, 
and  therefore  failed  to  appre- 
ciate the  value  of  my  hot  remarks. 
110 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Of  course  I  got  hot.  Who 
wouldn't,  with  a  retarded  spark 
and  no  oil?  I  heated  up  till  I 
thought  I  had  reached  my  limit, 
and  then  got  hotter  still.  I  was 
mad  all  over!  Boiling  mad! 
That's  right.  I  won't  evade  it. 
I  confess  it  freely,  without  regret 
or  shame.  I  boiled!  I  wanted 
to  burst  in  rage;  and  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  one  little  air  vent  I 
would  have  blown  my  radiator 
cap  right  up  into  the  lap  of  one 
of  my  angelic  ancestors. 

It  was  Ruth  who  came  to  my 
assistance,  bless  her  heart !  even 
though  she  didn't  know  it. 

"Goodness!"  she  observed  to 
the  mountain  of  intelligence  be- 
side her.  "Don't  you  think  it 
111 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

just  a  trifle  warm  for  June?  '* 

If  she  had  asked  me,  I  could 
have  told  her  it  was  a  trifle  warm 
for  hell;  but  she  didn't  ask  me. 

No,  Billy  hadn't  noticed  it. 
He  reminded  me  of  someone  I 
had  met  before.  Oh,  yes.  Re- 
member that  horse,  back  yonder, 
just  the  other  side  of  Wappingers 
Falls?  Well — never  mind.  It 
doesn't  matter.  We  went  on  for 
two  miles  more.  Some  kind- 
hearted  fairy  poked  at  Ruth,  and 
she  tried  again. 

"Dearest,"  she  said,  "I  hate 
to  disturb  you,  but  would  you 
mind  stopping  and  get  my  fan?  " 

I'm  glad   she  didn't   ask  for 
mine.    It  was  the  only  thing  that 
kept  me  from  blowing  up. 
112 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

We  stopped,  and  they  saw  my 
steam.  Even  Billy  noticed  it. 
It  was  coming  out  in  clouds, 
from  under  me,  both  ends  and 
at  the  sides.  It's  a  wonder, 
though,  he  didn't  think  it  ema- 
nated from  the  roadbed.  He 
got  out  quickly,  and,  for  once, 
seemed  almost  anxious. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Will  you  look  what  the  little 
choo-choo's  up  to!" 

' '  Good  gracious ! ' '  echoed 
Ruth,  in  a  tone  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  a  wise  suggestion.  "Per- 
haps the  poor  thing  wants  a 
drink  of  water." 

Billy  agreed  with  her,  and  got 
the  water  in  his  hat  from  a  ditch 
beside  the  road.     He  asked  the 

113 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 


light  of  his  life  to  hold  it  for  a 
minute,  took  out  his  handker- 
chief and  removed  my  radiator 
cap. 

Ah!  Glory  of  glories!  That's 
where  I  got  even.  Know  what 
I  did?  I  spit  on  him!  Two 
quarts  of  boiling  water  on  his 
hands  and  face.  And  it  took  the 
skin  off. 

What's  that?  No,  I'm  not 
ashamed.  If  he  hadn't  dodged 
I'd  have  spit  in  his  hair  and 
down  his  idiotic  back.  He  got 
what  was  coming  to  him  for 
neglecting  me,  and  he  got  it 
good  and  hot! 

Then  Ruth  got  even  with 
yours  truly.  That's  always  the 
way  with  a  woman  when  you 
114 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

correct  a  loved  one,  even  though 
you  do  it  for  the  good  of  his  un- 
trained soul.  She  cried  and 
kissed  his  sore  spots.  She  did 
it  over  and  over  till  I  almost 
swooned  with  jealousy;  but  still 
I  wasn't  sorry.  She  could  cry 
all  she  wanted  to.  I  didn't  give 
a  whing-whang  if  she  howled. 

With  some  owners,  you've  got 
to  run  over  them  to  teach  them 
anything.  As  for  Billy,  I  merely 
burned  him;  and  when  he  finds 
out  why  I  did  it,  he  will  never 
forget  my  oil  and  spark  again. 

"So  kiss  him,  dear  heart! 
That  scalding  hurts  him  like  the 
devil,  and  he  needs  the  gentle 
ministration  of  thy  tears." 

I  was  a  little  sorry,  though,  for 
115 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Ruth.  Our  wife  spilled  a  hat 
full  of  ditch  water  all  over  her- 
self, poor  child. 


116 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  XI 

first    streak    of 

3  good    luck    that    had 

■^s  come  my  way  m  four 

whole  days,  there  was 


a  cheap  garage  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  down  the 
road.  We  made  for  it  slowly,  on 
low  gear,  Billy  driving,  Ruth  pet- 
ting his  poor  arm,  and  I  spitting 
hot  water  on  my  hood  and  wind- 
shield. 

The  garage  man  came  out  and 
looked  us  over.  He  found  out 
what  the  trouble  was,  and  looked 
at  Billy,  though  he  didn't  speak 
his  thoughts  aloud.  He  filled  my 
oil  case  to  the  brim.  It  sizzled, 
but  I  wanted  to  kiss  him.  He 
117 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

noted  the  position  of  my  spark 
lever,  and  made  a  remark  in  gen- 
eral about  people  who  drove  in 
that  particular  scientific  manner. 
Our  hero  bit  his  burned  lip  and 
deigned  no  "arnswer." 

We  rested  for  an  hour,  till  I 
cooled  down.  Meanwhile  my 
happy  owner  anointed  his  smart- 
ing wounds  with  oil.  I  was  glad 
of  this.  It  would  help  him  to 
remember.  We  rewarded  the 
garage  man,  and  once  more  were 
about  to  start. 

"How  long  have  you  had  it? " 
asked  the  man. 

"A  week,"  said  Billy. 

"How  long  do  you  expect  to 
have  it?"  asked  the  man. 

"Dunno,"  said  Billy. 
118 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

"Thought  so,"  observed  the 
man,  in  an  undertone,  and  dis- 
appeared into  his  cheap  garage. 

We  went  away. 

We  were  now  in  a  funny- 
country.  There  were  lots  and 
lots  and  lots  of  roads,  but  they 
all  seemed  to  lead  to  Troy.  No 
matter  whether  we  were  on  a 
State  road,  a  cross  road  or  a  de- 
tour, the  sign  posts  insisted  that 
we  go  to  Troy.  We  didn't  want 
to  go  to  Troy.  We  swore  we 
wouldn't  go  to  Troy;  but  it  made 
no  difference.  It  was  Ruth 
who  circumvented  the  sign 
posts  by  a  really  bright  sug- 
gestion. 

"Darling,"  she  said  (to  Billy, 
not  to  me),  "why  don't  we  go  on 
119 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

a  road  where  there  aren't  any 
signs  at  all?" 

We  did.  The  plan  was  bril- 
liant and  to  the  point,  but  it  had 
its  disadvantages.  We  got  lost, 
and  stayed  so  for  a  long,  long 
time.  We  didn't  like  being  lost, 
so  we  tried  to  find  ourselves.  We 
even  tried  the  Blue  Book,  until 
Ruth  sighed  and  put  it  away  in 
a  golf  bag.  Then  we  began  to 
ask  questions  of  the  natives. 
The  natives,  to  a  unit,  were 
totally  devoid  of  any  bumps  of 
geographical  aptitude. 

At  last  we  met  a  genius.  He 
was  a  moth-eaten  old  codger 
who  had  lived  there  for  years 
and  years,  and  was  proud  of  it. 
He  told  us  all  about  it.  Then 
120 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

he  told  us  how  to  go.  His  direc- 
tions were  simple,  clear,  succinct. 

"Yer  kin  take  ther  back  rud 
fer  a  piece,  till  yer  come  to  ther 
State  Rud;  an'  then  yer'll  hev 
a  fine,  new  rud  to  Troy." 

We  didn't  take  the  back  rud. 
We  took  the  front  rud,  and  we 
went  fast.  In  a  little  while  it 
began  to  rain.  I  just  love  clay 
roads.  You  know,  I'm  a  sort  of 
a  mud  lark. 

We  put  on  chains;  yes,  four 
of  them,  and  for  three  sad  hours 
went  sloshing  and  skidding 
through  a  rural  vale  of  tears. 

Late  that  evening  we  arrived. 
In  Troy! 

I  don't  know  Jiow  we  got  there, 
but  we  did.  Perhaps  the  For- 
121 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

tune  Fairies  wished  it  on  us;  or 
maybe  it  was  done  by  strategy, 
just  as  the  Greeks  got  into  an- 
cient Troy  by  means  of  a  wooden 
horse.  And  speaking  of  horses, 
remember  that  old  humorist 
back  yonder  near  Wappingers 
Falls?  Well,  Fd  rather  sleep 
with  him,  in  his  smelly  stable, 
than  to  spend  another  night  in 
Troy. 

What's  that?  Oh,  no.  I  have 
nothing  against  the  town;  but 
when  you  swear  you  won't  go 
to  a  place,  then  suddenly  come 
out  of  the  dark  and  find  your- 
self right  in  the  middle  of  it,  it 
makes  you  rather  peevish.  I 
oughtn't  to  complain,  though. 
My  owner  bought  me  a  new  tail- 
122 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

light    and    had  me   laundered. 

In  the  morning  we  left,  on  a 
wide,  straight  road,  and  we 
never  stopped  for  lunch.  We 
were  afraid  of  getting  back  to 
Troy. 

In  leaving  that  town,  I  can 
give  you  a  priceless  tip.  Take 
a  wide,  straight  road,  just  as  we 
did,  and  keep  on  going.  If  the 
road  even  bears  to  the  right  or 
left,  don't  follow  it.  You  will 
save  time  by  cutting  through  the 
fields  and  woods. 


123 


CHAPTER  XII 

JHE  sun  was  shining  now 
and  things  looked  a  bit 
more  cheerful.  We 
were  going  north  and 
were  headed  for  the 
mountains.  Billy  had  never 
negotiated  a  mountain,  and  I  felt 
a  trifle  quaky  in  my  crank  case, 
that  being,  as  nearly  as  I  could 
judge,  the  region  known  as  the 
pit  of  one's  stomach. 

However,  I  had  one  consola- 
tion. If  we  fell  off  from  a  very 
high  place,  my  dissolution  would 
be  more  sudden  and  complete, 
and  therefore  far  less  painful .  I'm 
not  a  fanatic  on  Optimism.  I  use 
it.   Just  as  I  use  my  grease  cups. 

124 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

About  eighteen  miles  from 
Troy  we  stopped  at  a  garage. 
Here  Billy  gave  me  a  dose  of  oil. 
I  didn't  need  it,  but  it  showed 
that  a  germ  was  stirring  in  the 
vicinity  of  his  mind.  I  actually 
began  to  entertain  a  hope  for 
him;  then,  four  miles  further  on, 
he  dashed  it — utterly. 

They  stopped  to  pick  some 
wild  flowers — golden  rod — and 
I've  hated  it  ever  since.  In 
stopping,  our  bridegroom  put  on 
my  emergency  with  the  strength 
of  love,  and  squeezed  my  wheel 
drum  as  though  it  had  been 
Ruth's  waist.  I  didn't  mind  the 
squeezing ;  but  he  might,  at  least, 
have  released  my  brake  when  we 
tried  to  start. 

125 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

He  didn't.  Billy's  brain  tank 
is  of  light  capacity  and  has  no 
gauge  on  it.  It  is  the  kind  you 
poke  a  stick  into  and  measure 
the  wetness  with  your  finger. 
As  a  rule  the  liquid  was  low. 
Today  his  tank  was  dry. 

He  threw  out  my  clutch  and 
set  my  engine  going.  He  let  in 
my  clutch,  and  I  went  twelve 
feet  in  the  manner  of  a  drunken 
frog.  Even  then  I  might  have 
pulled  against  my  drag;  but 
Billy  slammed  on  the  gas  and 
choked  me.  I'm  sorry,  but  I 
stalled. 

He  tried  me  again,  and  again 

I  failed  him.    This  time  he  tried 

to  start  with  my  shift  in  low 

gear.    I  bucked,  and  something 

126 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

inside  me  hissed.  I  don't  know 
what  it  was  myself,  but  I  hope  it 
was  hissing  Billy. 

He  looked  at  Ruth.  Ruth 
looked  at  him.  Clearly  there 
was  something  wrong,  and  Na- 
poleon got  out  and  hunted  for 
it.  He  examined  my  tires  and 
found  them  properly  inflated. 
No  trouble  there.  He  lit  his  pipe 
and  investigated  my  speedom- 
eter. No  trouble  here.  Then 
Ruth  fished  out  her  trait  and 
offered  a  suggestion. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  "if  we 
pushed  in  all  of  its  little  buttons 
at  the  same  time,  then,  maybe, 
we'd  strike  the  right  one." 

Billy  didn't  think  so.  He  felt 
that  the  seat  of  calamity  was 

127 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

seated  deeper.  He  came  around 
in  front  and  regarded  me  most 
thoughtfully.  I  knew  it !  I  saw- 
it  coming  as  he  was  taking  off 
his  coat.  He  was  going  to  oper- 
ate. I  could  almost  smell  the 
chloroform. 

He  did  it.  Just  the  thing  I 
knew  he  would.  He  raised  up 
my  hood  and  began  to  monkey 
with  my  carburetor. 

"William,"  I  tried  to  say,  in 
a  tone  of  forbearance  and  of 
due  respect,  "I  don't  want  to 
criticise  an  owner ;  but  I  do  want 
to  tell  you  this:  It  is  entirely 
possible  for  an  engine  to  be  made 
fool-proof,  but  not  damn-fool 
proof!" 

Do  you  think  he  listened? 
128 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Not  he!  He  paid  the  same  at- 
tention to  my  remarks  as  he  had 
to  the  position  of  my  emergency 
brake,  and  the  brutal  work  went 
on.  He  didn't  know  whether  I 
needed  gas  or  air,  but  there's 
nothing  Hke  experiment,  espe- 
cially in  a  pea-green  jackass  with 
as  much  imagination  as  that 
horse  near  Wappingers  Falls. 

He  adjusted  three  of  my  set 
screws,  to  his  perfect  satisfac- 
tion, and  presented  me  with  a 
mixture  that  would  have  made 
an  entire  skunk  family  envious. 
Then  he  drifted  joyously  into  the 
driver's  seat  and  shot  the  juice 
into  me. 

I  turned  my  engine  over  faith- 
fully, obediently.  I  snorted  once 
129 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

and  back-fired.  Then  I  sighed 
and  went  out  of  business. 

Billy  wanted  to  adjust  my 
universal  joints,  but,  thank  God, 
he  had  lost  his  wrench.  Our 
wife  —  dear,  gentle  soul  —  sug- 
gested that  we  sound  the  horn 
for  help. 

I  was  glad  of  this,  not  only 
because  the  suggestion  was  in- 
spired, but  because  my  batteries 
were  now  the  only  parts  of  me 
in  working  order. 

We  sounded  the  horn,  and 
were  rewarded.  An  angel  of 
light,  with  a  smutty  face  and  a 
pair  of  greasy  overalls,  came 
rattling  along  in  an  Ingle-go- 
jang  of  pre-historic  vintage.  The 
cherub  responded  to  our  S. 
130 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

O.  S.,  descended  from  his  rosy 
cloud  and  readjusted  me. 

"Now  then,"  he  said  to  Billy, 
after  half  an  hour.  "You  can 
start  her  off." 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had 
been  alluded  to  as  a  she;  but  I 
didn't  care.  I  didn't  care  what 
he  called  me.  We  started  off. 
At  least,  I  did  my  best. 

"Hey  there!"  yelled  the  cher- 
ub. "Gosh  darn  you,  take  off 
that  brake!''  He  came  to  my 
side  and  regarded  Billy  with  a 
look  of  wondrous  pity  in  his  eye. 
"Say,  you!"  he  observed,  "jozt 
otten't  to  drive  no  car.  What 
you  otter  do  is  to  sell  sawsagc! 
In  a  basement!  Where  you 
couldn't  fall  out  an'  bust  noth- 
131 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

in'."  He  turned  to  Ruth,  with 
a  somewhat  milder  tone,  and 
touched  his  greasy  cap.  "Good- 
bye, lady.  You  better  keep  yer 
eye  on  'im.  Ef  he  gits  vi'lent, 
lead  him  into  Bugburg." 

I  liked  that  cherub.  His  ob- 
servations possessed  a  certain 
tang  of  eloquence  and  vigor; 
yes,  even  though  his  diction  was 
a  trifle  imconventional. 


132 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  XIII 

;FTER  this  we  got  on 
better.  At  least  they 
^^  did;  not  I.  I  wasn't 
^  happy.  What?  Oh, 
no,  there  was  nothing 
wrong.  Physically  I  was  feeling 
fine  and  running  smoothly.  The 
trouble  was  with  my  heart. 

You  may  not  know  it,  but 
brides  and  grooms  have  a  way 
of  forgetting  everything — except 
themselves.  They  even  forget 
the  chap  who  is  giving  them  the 
trip,  and  is  mainly  responsible 
for  most  of  the  expenses. 

Well,  that's  what  they  did  to 
me.  Forgot  me!  Kept  taking 
their  eyes  off  the  road  and  put- 

133 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

ting  them  on  each  other.  And 
the  things  those  idiots  said?  Oh, 
Mommer!  I  wouldn't  repeat 
them,  not  even  to  you,  in  con- 
fidence. 

Billy  was  positively  slushy; 
but  some  of  the  things  Ruth 
said  were  beautiful.  They  did 
the  groom  lots  of  good;  but 
they  hurt  me  woefully,  and 
made  me  feel  that  my  carbu- 
retor wasn't  working  properly, 
though,  maybe,  it  was  the  alti- 
tude. 

You'll  think,  no  doubt,  my 
depression  was  caused  by  jeal- 
ousy of  Billy.  Perhaps  you  are 
right,  for  I  felt  that  if  it  wasn't 
for  my  Ruth,  I  would  like  to  die. 
No,  by  Jupiter!  I  had  a  better 
134 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

plan.  I  would  die!  With  her! 
And  I  tried  to  do  it. 

We  had  come  up  a  mountain 
and  were  going  down  on  the 
other  side.  I  was  coasting.  I 
had  no  heart  to  work.  We  were 
on  a  blasted  road — yes,  in  both 
senses  of  the  word.  On  the  right 
were  jagged  rocks.  On  the  left 
was  the  tempting  brink  of  a  de- 
clivity, with  a  peaceful  valley  far 
below,  and  there  wasn't  any 
road -rail. 

Just  at  the  moment  of  my 
gloomiest  reflections,  Ruth  pulled 
something  about  "the  lights  and 
shadows  that  danced  in  the 
limpid  depths  of  her  Billy  boy's 
dear,  devoted  eyes." 

This  was  too  much  for  me.    I 

135 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

couldn't  stand  it.  Besides,  Billy 
had  taken  his  dear,  devoted  eyes 
off  the  road,  and  I  wasn't  going  to 
miss  the  opportunity.  I  didn't. 
I  dived  for  the  tempting  brink! 

Ruth  grabbed  my  wheel  and 
twisted  it.  Luckily  she  twisted 
it  the  right  way.  Otherwise  you 
wouldn't  be  worrying  over  this 
biography. 

Heigh-ho!  That's  always  the 
way  in  this  sad  old  life  of  ours. 
A  chap  can't  even  kill  himself, 
when  death  would  mean  the 
sweetest  end  of  all.  He's  just 
got  to  go  on  living — and  listen- 
ing to  slush! 

Was  it  Solomon  or  Solon  who 
pulled  that  epigram  about  ' '  two 
being    company    and    three    a 

136 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

crowd"?  I'll  bet  they  said  it 
both  together.  It's  too  darned 
true  for  any  one  old  geezer  to 
have  gotten  it  off  alone. 

What's  that  you  say?  Why, 
no!  /  haven't  anything  against 
brides  and  grooms,  any  more 
than  I  have  against  the  town  of 
Troy ;  but  there  is  something  on 
my  chest.  I'm  going  to  get  it 
off,  if  you  don't  mind,  and  ease 
my  compression,  so  to  speak. 

It's  this:  If  ever  I  go  on 
another  honeymoon,  I'm  going 
with  a  middle-aged  widow  and 
a  widower,  both  of  whom  have 
owned  and  operated  cars  with 
some  small  and  faintly  fluttering 
degree  of  sanity. 

Get  it?    Thank  you. 

137 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  XIV 

'E  scuffled  along  for 
J§  two  more  days,  till 
we  came  to  a  lake, 
and  rested.  It  was 
here  I  was  intro- 
duced to  Kate  and  Peter.  They 
were  friends  'of  Ruth's,  married 
to  each  other  for  a  long,  long 
time,  and  were  therefore  normal. 
I  liked  Kate.  Not  so  much  as 
I  liked  Ruth,  of  course;  but — 
well,  she  never  thrilled  me  when 
she  sat  on  me.  But  as  for  Pete, 
I  worshipped  him!  He  was  a 
natural  born  driver.  I  knew  it 
the  minute  he  stepped  on  my 
running  board  and  shook  hands 
with  my  passengers. 

138 


AN  AUTO-BIOORAPHY 

The  next  thing  he  did  was  to 
run  his  hand  over  my  hood  to 
see  if  I  were  overheated.  I  was, 
with  thanks  to  Billy,  Pete  sighed 
sadly  and  offered  to  look  me  over. 

It's  funny  how  you  fall  for  a 
friend  the  moment  you  clap  your 
lamps  on  him;  but  I  didn't  mere- 
ly fall  for  Pete;  I  plunged.  He 
was  a  big,  easy-going,  joyful  sort 
of  a  euss,  who  had  as  much  con- 
sideration for  a  ear  as  he  had 
for  his  fishing  tackle.  If  I  had 
been  a  she  car,  instead  of  a  he 
car,  it  is  entirely  possible  that 
I  might  have  gone  on  a  bridal 
trip  with  Pete.  By  Jupiter,  I 
might  even  have  eloped ! 

We  stayed  at  the  lake  three 
days,  and  went  "joy-riding."    I 

139 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

use  the  term  advisedly,  for  that 
is  what  it  was  to  me.  It  shot 
the  electric  juice  of  hope  into  my 
soul. 

We  put  Ruth  and  Kate  in  the 
tonneau,  and  let  'em  talk  and 
talk  and  talk,  about  nothing  in 
particular.  Pete  and  Billy  sat 
in  front.  Do  you  think  Pete 
drove  me?  Not  he,  my  son.  He 
never  touched  my  wheel.  It  was 
Billy  who  did  the  driving. 

Now,  possibly,  you  may  think 
it  curious  that  I  speak  of  a  "joy- 
ride"  with  our  William  at  the 
helm  of  destiny;  but,  believe  me, 
little  one,  that  is  just  my  point. 

Pete  sat  beside  him  and  talked 
horse  sense.  I  don't  mean  the 
kind  of  horse  sense  one  gets  back 

140 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

yonder  near  Wappingers  Falls. 
I  mean  auto  horse  sense.  He 
didn't  tell  Billy  what  to  do.  He 
told  him  what  not  to  do;  and 
that,  if  you  please,  is  just  about 
the  most  important  punching 
knuckle  in  the  fist  of  life. 

In  a  little  while  Billy  was  ad- 
ministering my  gas  in  swallow- 
able  doses.  What  is  more,  he 
began  to  think  with  his  feet.  I 
mean  by  that  that  they  were 
acting  independent  of  his  brain. 

In  Billy's  case,  I  might  say 
this  was  fortunate;  but  an  auto 
doesn't  harbor  spleen  for  past 
performances.  It  serves  you 
blindly,  faithfully,  and  only  asks 
consideration,  gas,  water,  and  a 
little  oil. 

141 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

At  any  rate,  Billy  learned  to 
shift  without  looking  at  the 
lever,  to  use  my  foot  brake  with- 
out ramming  it  through  the 
floor,  and  to  go  into  second  the 
moment  my  engine  began  to 
labor.  He  also  learned  to  listen 
to  my  voice.  If  anjrthing  went 
wrong,  I'd  tell  him,  and  I'd  tell 
him  in  a  whisper.  And  another 
thing.  Pete  told  him.  I  heard 
him  tell  it.     It  was  this: 

''Each  car  has  its  individual 
disposition,  just  as  an  owner  has; 
but  the  car  becomes  aware  of 
the  owner's  disposition  much 
sooner  than  the  owner  knows 
the  disposition  of  his  car.  If 
this  were  reversed,  we'd  have 
far  fewer  accidents." 
142 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

Get  that?  Some  scout  was 
good  old  Pete.  He  may  never 
be  our  President  in  Washington ; 
but  if  he's  ever  put  up  for  the 
presidency  of  an  amateur  auto 
club,  by  Jove,  you  can  bet  he 
will  get  my  vote!  That  is  to  say, 
if  the  ladies,  by  then,  will  permit 
a  male  to  cast  his  ballot. 

I  liked  that  lake!  It  was  a 
peaceful,  restful  sort  of  place, 
where  a  chap  could  dream,  and 
plan  for  the  touring  days  to 
come. 

And  Ruth  was  happy.  That 
was  the  main  point,  an3rway. 
It  didn't  matter  whatever  else 
might  happen,  so  long  as  Ruth 
was  happy  and  content. 

And  still,  at  night,  it  was  lone- 

143 


AN  AUTO- BIOGRAPHY 

some  in  that  barn — darned  lone- 
some! 

Even  a  bachelor  has  his  mo- 
ments of  depression. 


144 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  XV 

[ELL,  we  left  the  lake. 
I  didn't  want  to  leave 
it,  any  more  than  I 
wanted  to  start  back 
home  and  suddenly 
find  myself  in  Troy.  I  still  had 
hopes  of  getting  a  few  more 
"NOTS"  from  Pete;  but  please 
don't  consider  me  a  hog.  I'm 
nearly  human,  even  if  I  am  an 
auto. 

Pete  and  Kate  came  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  hotel  steps  to 
see  us  off,  so  we  kissed  them  and 
went  away.  I  winked  at  Pete 
with  my  side  lamp,  but  my 
winks  were  somewhat  moist ;  and 
you  can  bet  your  fishing  rods, 

145 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

old  scout,  I  kept  my  tail  light 
on  you  till  I  lost  you  around  the 
curve. 

We  went  away!  Ah,  me,  it's 
a  happy,  sniffly  sort  of  feeling 
when  you  start  back  home  from 
your  honeymoon.  You  want  to 
cry;  but,  somehow,  dear,you  find 
your  self  all  mixed  up,  and  laugh. 

That's  what  we  did,  anyway. 
The  rest  of  that  trip,  as  Ruth 
expressed  it,  was  just  one  top- 
speed,  joyful  sort  of  blur.  We 
had  no  trouble  of  any  kind;  not 
even  a  puncture.  /  saw  to  that 
myself.  When  I  spied  a  nail,  or 
a  piece  of  broken  glass,  I  just 
hopped  over  it — for  Ruth. 

I  did  want  to  see  our  Billy 
change  another  shoe ;  but,  some- 
146 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

how,  I  couldn't  bring  myself  to 
spoil  the  boy's  delight.  I  liked 
that  boy!  I  liked  him  from  the 
first;  though  I've  never  fully 
understood  how  he  ever  got  me 
into  Troy. 

Yet  now  he  was  getting  me. 
He  was  getting  power  out  of  me, 
and  getting  speed;  and,  I  tell 
you,  I  tried  to  show  apprecia- 
tion. I  ran !  I  was  feeling  great ! 
I  felt  as  I  did  that  first,  sweet 
day  when  the  profane  young 
tester  took  me  out,  and  I  got 
the  fat  old  rooster. 

But  oh,  that  homeward  trip! 
Say,  friend,  are  you  married? 
What?  Well,  dang  your  igno- 
rant and  selfish  buttons!  Go 
hunt  for  a  Ruth — and  fi7id  her 
147 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

— quick!  Your  car  will  take 
care  of  the  rest  of  it.  You  won't 
have  to  worry  about  a  single 
thing — that  is,  if  you  have  the 
means  and  brains. 

We  didn't  worry.  Not  a  bit. 
We  were  too  contented.  We 
loved  each  other;  yes,  all  three 
of  us,  and,  somehow,  I  couldn't 
flash  one  spark  of  jealousy.  I 
wonder  if  my  ignition  was  work- 
ing as  it  should?  Say,  Solomon, 
and  you  too,  brother  Solon,  there 
are  times  when  three  are  not  a 
crowd. 

We  ran  together  over  hills, 
and  coasted  down  the  long, 
smooth  grades  beyond;  then 
passed  through  cool,  sweet  val- 
leys when  the  shadows  fell.  We 
148 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

skirted  lakes  and  rivers,  listen- 
ing to  the  bell-birds  singing  in 
the  dusk;  and  our  hearts,  like 
theirs,  were  glad.  They  ached 
with  the  peace  and  purity  of  it 
all,  so  we  got  mixed  up  again, 
and  laughed. 

And  then  we  got  back  home. 
I  don't  like  to  talk  about  it  ex- 
actly, but  suppose  I  must ;  other- 
wise this  wouldn't  be  a  true  biog- 
raphy. The  incident  made  me 
feel  a  little  lumpy  in  my  intake 
valves. 

We  stopped,  and  our  wife  got 
out.  She  stood  in  front  of  me, 
with  her  head  a  trifle  on  one 
side — just  as  I  had  seen  her 
first — and  smiled.  Then  she 
wiped  her  eyes,  put  one  hand 
149 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

on  my  radiator  cap,  and  spoke 
to  Billy. 

"Darling,"  she  said,  "some 
day  we  may  be  the  owners  of 
other  cars,  better  and  of  finer 
finish;  but  we'll  never,  7iever  be 
more  happy  than  we  are  in  this." 

Then  she  looked  at  me!  Yes, 
full  in  the  head-lights,  and  spoke 
again. 

' '  You  dear! ' '  she  said .  "I  love 
you,  you  dear  old  darling!" 

She  patted  me  on  the  hood, 
gently,  with  a  lingering  sort  of 
touch  good  women  have,  and 
went  into  the  house.  I  watched 
her,  with  all  five  eyes;  yes, 
watched,  till  the  door  was  closed. 
Then  Billy  took  me  around  to  a 
nice  garage  before  I  could  make 
150 


AN  AUTO-BIOGRAPHY 

a  blithering  idiot  of  myself. 
Good  old  Billy!  You  know  I 
always  liked  that  boy.  I  liked 
him  from  the  first. 

Say,  people !  Remember  that 
old  temperance  horse,  up  yonder 
near  Wappingers  Falls.  Well, 
never  mind.  It  doesn't  matter. 
I'm  tired  and  a  trifle  sleepy — 
and  maybe  you  are,  too.  Good 
night. 


151 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


AUG  1  0  1951 
liJAY  2  2  1952 

JUL  18 1957 


Form  L9-50m-ll,'50  (2554)444 


Peole  - 


1023     An  auto-bio^ra- 
?39a  phy. 


DC  SOUTHfRN  RIGIONAI  LIBRAKV  FAauTY 


A    001 


340  452    0 


iiy.^  _  ■  .    ■ 


a7 

P39a 


